


Red Against the Snow

by Ember



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Events in Canon World, Anal Sex, Departs from Canon A Bit?, Derek as a wolf, Little Red Riding Hood - Freeform, M/M, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No bestiality though, Obvious fairy tale references, Sharing Body Heat, Slow Build, Stiles is lost in the woods, Werewolves, Wolf Derek, Wolves, dub-con, non-con elements, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-17 17:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember/pseuds/Ember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Little Red Riding Hood isn’t just one story. People are mistaken about that. Hell, Grimm wasn’t even original about it. The first guy to publish it was actually Charles Perrault, a french writer who wrote shit for the Louis XIV’s court. And damn, there was nothing subtle about it.</i><br/> <br/>Stiles is trapped for the holidays in the cabin of a strange man/hermit named Derek. A strangely friendly wolf befriends Stiles during his stay. It's up to the teenager to find out why Derek has secluded himself from society, what the feelings he's beginning to have means, and what the connection between the mysterious man and the mysterious black wolf is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big props to my beta [toms-avenger](http://toms-avenger.tumblr.com/) for helping me edit this work!
> 
> Just in case you didn't catch it in the tags, this will eventually become sexually explicit with hints of dub-con. A lot of plot will happen before I get to that point though.
> 
> Edit: Aw, look, Mari-Mcsly made me a [book cover](http://mari-mcsly.tumblr.com/post/41771669268/cover-for-red-against-the-snow-by-ember) for my fic! It's super cute, check it out~
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://mari-mcsly.tumblr.com/post/41771669268/cover-for-red-against-the-snow-by-ember)  
> 
> 
> And a commission by [Cofie](http://littlecofiegirl.tumblr.com)!
> 
> [](http://littlecofiegirl.tumblr.com/post/61871885854/and-this-was-commissioned-by-ember-to-ash-i-lost)   
> 

Little Red Riding Hood isn’t just one story. People are mistaken about that. Hell, Grimm wasn’t even original about it. The first guy to publish it was actually Charles Perrault, a french writer who wrote shit for the Louis XIV’s court. And damn, there was nothing subtle about it.

Stiles knew this because in freshmen year his high school teacher made then do a research paper on any literature topic they wanted, and Stiles had thought that there was nothing simpler than fairy tales for an easy A. That was until he got into it, and saw how many freaking fairy tales there were, and the teacher told him to stick to one. Why Little Red Riding Hood? His library just happened to have a book on the subject, a light read he finished within the week that gave him the lowdown on all things Riding Hood. It was on the first page when searching fairy tale analysis.

Anyway, back to Perrault. The story had one thing in mind, and it wasn’t for kids, coz that one theme was sex. Unlike the Grimm tale that you grew up with, the wolf just eats her in the end. Chomps down on her, and it was suppose to be a metaphor for virgin girls having sex with unscrupulous men outside of wedlock. Once again, nothing subtle about it. The men were commonly called les loups. The wolves.

So what about Grimm, the one we all know and ‘love’? That’s basically all about Christianity. Red represents Christians, the wolf is evil/sin/the devil, what have you. He tells her to pick some flowers- really, do I have to spell it out for you? She’s ‘tempted’ by ‘sin’ and is eaten because of it. Strays from ‘the path’ though her parents told her not to. And then she’s ‘saved’ by an older man, a literal rebirth as he slices the beast’s belly open. Simple, clean cut explanation.

But there’s this even older version of the story, a really creepy one. There’s no huntsmen, but Red is still tricked into picking some flowers, and the wolf eats her grandma, puts on the clothes, plays pretend, the whole shebang. Only- and how sick is this? The wolf tells Red to eat some of her grandmother’s flesh and drink some of her blood mixed with wine. And she does, without even realizing it, she eats her own grandmother’s fucking flesh. It’s suppose to symbolize maturation, how the old must die to make way for the young, the cycle of humanity and all that. She escapes in the end though, tricks the wolf with her wits. Though Stiles was pretty grossed out by the cannibalism, the ending was probably his favorite. The other stories seemed anti-feminist in comparison, and hey, Stiles was all for equal rights with the ladies.

That should have been that, he landed a solid A and his teacher ate that shit up. Just another random fact that he could sprout when he had the chance to slide it into conversation, along with all the other thousands of bits of useless trivia. But... fuck. Something about it. Something about it just stuck with him. Just reading so much about the sexual side of it. There was even a section in the book about how pornos had run with the idea (something he markedly decided to not put in his paper), and fuck was that annotation a great rec list for his viewing pleasure.

So yeah, he spent a lot of time imagining himself as the wolf, coz what guy wouldn’t? Not that he was suddenly all about random molestation, but there was nothing wrong with a little rough foreplay. And, trust him, all the girls in his imagination were more than willing. Even the strong headed redheads who normally wouldn’t give him the time of day. Lydia Martin in a skimpy red riding hood outfit, damn. It was a definite wish list item that was shot down every Halloween. It had led to some embarrassing moments, like that one time in Sophomore year. He had blurted out the suggestion when she was sitting across from him, talking to one of her friends about an upcoming costume party. Yeah, the glare he had gotten could have burned holes through his head when that happened. If there was ever a chance she would do it, it was certainly not on the table now.

Besides, he was pretty sure she would drag Jackson along as her wolf. Maybe even grab a leash, play up a whole dominatrix feel. Stiles couldn’t even laugh, he would love to be on that leash.

And that’s where the second half of his fantasies played out (or, if he was completely honest, the majority), because even though every guy would love to be the big bad wolf, Stiles wasn’t every guy. Hell, being Red, even if it just involved his red hoodie, didn’t seem like such a bad idea either. (Though don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not like he was imagining himself in some sort of skimpy skirt here. Well, maybe that one time, but that had been a weird night full of Red Bull hallucinations and Adderall withdrawal.) But the idea of a chick in leather and fangs pushing him down on the bed, clawing at his back, riding him even while he feared for his life? Nothing could really get him going like that.

The only problem is he couldn’t find the porn for it. The industry was so bent towards male domination that every Riding Hood kink he found involved the male as the wolf, or if the female was a wolf it was always girl on girl action. The spheres of dominatrixes and fairy tale porn just didn’t mix very often, and Stiles would have even resorted to buying a physical dvd if it came to it, but even that was turning up blank. 

So, when Stiles did find a male riding hood, he clicked without thinking.

It was fate, really, on the side bar of one of his classic go tos. A guy in a red hoodie, exactly what he always imagined, he was even young looking like Stiles was. Kinda that awkward skinny that didn’t have much broad appeal, sure, but apparently good enough to become a porn star. He was so excited that he was 30 seconds in before he realized just what he had clicked. That the big bad wolf was still a guy.

Stiles kept watching.

He would later rationalize, while he was lying in bed, that it had been the shock at first. Coz really, he never even gave gay porn suggestions a second glance. And then, all the sudden, you’re in the middle of it. Just watching as two guys start making out, and one pushes the other down, and the clothes kept coming off, and things were stroked and skin was licked, and oh god it was just like normal porn but not. So not.

Finishing the video? Well, he chalked that up to curiosity. He was sure he wasn’t the only straight male that watched a gay porno for the hell of it. Just to see what it was like, how it was different. Fuck, how did two guys even work? (Okay, he knew how two guys worked because he had googled it, once, just out of curiosity, back in eighth grade.) But reading the mechanics and watching it in action were two very different things, and really, curiosity didn’t mean anything.

It wasn’t until he was reaching into his pajama pants to grasp his still hard dick, his thoughts still on the tall wolf figure in the video, all leather jacket and brooding stubble, that he realized that maybe it was a little more than curiosity.

+++

The snow was falling lightly, like confectioners sugar on top of the cake, melting as it reached the blacktop. It was getting towards evening, and Stiles was in the mountains of California, where snow actually stayed when it fell. The evergreens were lined with it like strips of cotton, thousands of Christmas tree displays bare of the ornaments, lining the road. At first it had been kind of beautiful, very different from his own warm home at Beacon Hills (even though it did snow there occasionally), but soon the repetition allowed the dazzle effect to wear off. This would have been the point of the road trip where he would zone out, maybe text Scott or fall asleep in the passenger seat. His dad would wake him up when they came up to the next rest stop, which wouldn’t be for another hour or so. The way to Aunt Vivian’s was pretty desolate for long stretches.

But Stiles couldn’t do that when he was driving, rubbing his eyelids to brush away the sleepiness. He knew he shouldn’t stare at the snow too long, he had actually read the driver's manual before getting his license and knew that snow blindness wasn’t something you messed with. He tried to keep his eyes on the black pavement as the sun set behind him, illuminating each flake as it dipped gracefully onto his windshield. 

His dad was back at home with a broken leg, and Stiles had made sure that Miss McCall was on (heh) call in case the sheriff needed help with anything. Not that he exactly wanted to imagine his dad getting a sponge bath from his best friend’s nurse mom, ew, she was like his aunt or something. But hopefully she would stick to her promise and force the sheriff to eat Christmas dinner with Scott and her and his dad wouldn’t have a pathetic night eating take out while watching old Christmas movies, coz that was only not pathetic if Stiles was there to do it with him.

And he would have been there, too, Stiles that is. Making sure his dad was comfortable, carting him to and fro in the house, making sure the sofa his dad had claimed for easy kitchen access was covered in pillows and blankets. That is, if it wasn’t for the Stilinski tradition of visiting Great Aunt Vivian every Christmas. Great Aunt Vivian, his mom’s Aunt, and really the only close connection he had to that side of the family. A woman who lived all by herself up north in the mountains, who hated the phone but called once a month anyway, who always sent a birthday card with a crisp 5 dollar bill, and who had sounded so heart broken when Stiles had called to explain about his dad’s broken leg.

“It’s okay, I understand Stiles,” she had said. She hadn’t called him anything but Stiles since he had thrown a tantrum about it when he was 5, back when he had first gotten the nickname from Scott who had a childish lisp and couldn’t pronounce his ‘real’ first name. And she did sound understanding, but also so sad and heartbroken about it, because he really did love her and her disgusting candy and stories about when his mom was a little girl, and he didn’t want to miss out on the one time of year he got to see her.

“I’m still coming though,” he had said on reflex, because hell he was sixteen and had a car and he hadn’t really planned on it but he would ask dad later. “Make sure you make a lot of food, because I’m going to eat it all! Hel- Heck yes, your food is delicious!”

“If you’re sure,” she said in the brightest voice ever, crinkled along the corners with age. “You Stilinski men sure know how woo a girl-” The sentence was cut off with a round of wet coughing.

“Aunt Vivian?” Stiles asked, worry make his voice high pitched. “Shi-shoot, are you okay?”

The coughing ended after a few moments, but she sounded a little out of breath when she spoke next. “Yes dear, fine. Just a little cold, nothing to worry about.”

“If you’re sure.” Colds were suppose to be a big deal for old people though, right? That’s why they always got vaccines first. “Do you want me to bring you anything? Medicine or something?”

“Oh, no no, I have all the medicine my poor stomach can handle. But, if you did want to do me a favor, ask your father to buy me some wine. There’s a brand down by you that he knows I like, and a little warm wine would do my throat wonders.” She paused and whispered, “I’ll even let you have a sip if you’re a good boy, though that’s something you shouldn’t tell your father, alright?” He could almost hear her wink.

Stiles smiled. “Alright, I’ll make sure to do that.” She didn’t need to know that he had already done more than sipped a little wine during Christmas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But now, walking in the snowy woods, Stiles couldn’t help but regret his decision not to pack a heavy winter jacket (if he even owned one). Or at least to layer up with the few clothes he had brought for the weekend. Or even stayed in his lovely, enclosed car that was currently partially smashed into a tree. But no, Stiles had seen smoke and decided to hike up to whatever god forsaken cabin was producing it in nothing but his faithful red hoodie, the fabric heavy but not nearly heavy enough._

It had been a random moment when he turned his eyes and first saw it. He was messing with the radio, trying to pick up a station that wasn’t Christian or Country, when it caught his eye. A wolf. A freakin wolf, there was no way he was seeing wrong. Black as pitch, eyes an unearthly, shining ice blue, sitting just besides the road in the treeline. No way you can mistake that for a dog.

So it shouldn’t be surprising that Stiles stared a bit. Craned his neck as he drove past, swore the wolf was staring right back, those azul eyes shining. Time sorta slowed down, and each flake of snow seemed to freeze in place, like one of those cheesy movie movements, but damn if it didn’t happen. But then Stiles remembered he was on a road, and oh yeah, he should probably watch that. Which was when he noticed the squirrel.

It was more of a jerk reaction than an act of pure kindness, not that Stiles would have particularly wanted to crush Snow White’s pal beneath his jeep, but certainly there could have been a better way to avoid the critter than what happened. Which was a combination of slamming his breaks and turning quickly, and given that the road was now covered in a thin layer of slush, that wasn’t the smartest move. With a skid and a crash, Stile’s jeep was neck deep in the trunk of a tree.

+++

Teenage boys aren’t generally, even during their most clear headed days, a group that thinks ahead. That includes bringing warm garments when it’s going to be cold. Girls will pack for all kind of weather, from safaris to the arctic, but guys will think they’re going to be fine with a light jacket and jeans.

And normally that _would_ be fine. Stiles really only had to get from his car to his Aunt’s front door, a ten foot walk at most. She would chide him for not bundling up, pull out the scarf and/or mittens she had knitted him that year, and take pictures of him in them. It would be annoying at this point if her face didn’t light up every time. And he needed a new pair of mittens this year, Scott borrowed and lost his old ones (something that almost got the boy the silent treatment, if Stiles wasn’t so horrible at silent treatments).

But now, walking in the snowy woods, Stiles couldn’t help but regret his decision not to pack a heavy winter jacket (if he even owned one). Or at least to layer up with the few clothes he had brought for the weekend. Or even stayed in his lovely, enclosed car that was currently partially smashed into a tree. But no, Stiles had seen smoke and decided to hike up to whatever god forsaken cabin was producing it in nothing but his faithful red hoodie, the fabric heavy but not nearly heavy enough.

And, really, at the time it hadn’t seemed so far away! He had almost lost track a couple of high tension moments, but then it appeared again over the treeline. It never seemed to get much closer though, and the air was getting colder as the night settled down and the wind picked up. The confectioners sugar snowflakes were turning into mutated blobs that seemed to pile on his clothes and skin faster with each second. He kept having to rub them off, and his hands were starting to feel numb. He put them under his armpits in an attempt to warm them.

Fear didn’t really kick in until he noticed he couldn’t feel his fingertips. He was getting tired, sleepier with each step he took, and the panicked thudding of his heart sounded distant, far away. He tried to think of everything he could remember about surviving a snowstorm, but that information had never seemed pertinent in balmy Beacon Hills. All he wanted was to not have snow driving into him, to not feel the wind cut through him like icy knives.

He only meant to sit underneath the pine tree for a few seconds, to catch his breath and maybe build up a little warmth. His hands seemed stuck in slow motion as he rubbed them together, and his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. His head rolled back onto the tree trunk, and he couldn’t believe he could be this freezing and this tired. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that sleeping was a horrible idea, but his thoughts were thick and sluggish.

That was when he saw the wolf again.

It was big, not like _Twilight_ big, but bigger than Stiles would expect a wolf to be. Though he couldn’t say why, he knew it wasn’t a dog. Just this instinct that went beyond watching late night Animal Planet. And, despite all common sense, he wasn’t scared of it. The wolf regarded him with eyes like two blue flames.

Stiles put out his hand, because he wanted to touch the black fur that looked so soft. It should have been surprising when the wolf walked forward and rubbed its face against his hand. It radiated warmth and Stiles gestured for it to come closer. And it did. It walked forward and pressed itself against him, sitting in front of Stiles’ tucked in legs. The boy hugged it close.

“You’re such a good wolfy,” he muttered into the fur, sleep slowly claiming him. “Don’t go away. I’m so cold.”

The wolf nuzzled his face, as if in promise to stay.

+++

Stiles woke up in bed. Let’s be more specific, he woke up in _a_ bad, not _his_ bed. He knew it wasn’t his bed coz the coverlet was way too thick, and it was black which wasn’t Stiles’ style at all. He looked down at it bunched in his hands with growing confusion. Had Aunt Vivian changed the guest room blanket?

But looking around, the room was decidedly not Aunt Vivian’s guest room. First of all, the walls were not a cheerful powder blue but rather white, just white. The floor wasn’t the fuzziest, thickest carpet of pale yellow Stiles’ ever knew of, but rather straight up hardwood. There were no paintings of happy gardens on the wall, or picture frames teaming along the dresser drawer and side table. Empty space stared back at him instead. So, yeah, it was most definitely not Aunt Vivian’s guest room.

This was when the whole, “Oh yeah I almost froze to death,” thought came rushing in. He wondered, briefly, if he had died and gone to purgatory, the normal kind not the weird monster afterlife one in Supernatural. The room was way too bland and neutral to be heaven or hell. Stiles noticed a window and saw that the outside consisted of snow covered pine trees. Okay, well that certainly put a damper on his death theory.

As fun as it was laying down and trying to figure out where he was and why he wasn’t dead, the scent of food lured him out of bed, and ow. Almost freezing to death obviously didn’t do nice things to your muscles. He rotated his arms and rubbed his thighs, but hunger and curiosity was sure as hell getting the best out of him and he stood up sooner than his body would have perhaps like, but damn it if he wasn’t a man and going to bear it. (And, okay, a lack of someone to whine to may have been a paramount reason he didn’t complain, but he wasn’t about to admit that to even himself.)

A quick jaunt down the hall led him to a large space consisting of a living room and kitchen combo with a small table for dining. The floors were all hardwood throughout, and the sofa was as black as the comforter. There was flat screen, a small tower of DVDs, and the walls were all whitewashed. The kitchen was tiled in dark blue, with black, modern kitchen appliances, and currently presiding in front of the stove was a man who Stiles theorized to be the owner of the house.

He was tall, broad, had dark hair, and that was really all Stiles could tell from his current vantage point. He was dressed in a white Henley and jeans, no apron, and was currently sizzling enough bacon to feed a small army.

“Didn’t think you’d ever get up,” the man said, doing that ultra cool guy thing where he didn’t turn around when he said it. It didn’t help the man’s voice was gruff and deep.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t know there was a wake up time. Busy recovering from almost dying and all that. But now that you mention it, what time is it?”

“Almost noon. You’re in my cabin, before you ask. No, there’s no one nearby, so yes, you are lucky I found you.” The man flicked a slice of bacon, and Stiles’ mouth watered as he took note of the heavenly scent filling the room. The man turned around this time, and whoa, what, when did models live in the middle of the freaking woods? “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring you your breakfast.” The man voice was clipped, and he had a sullen look on his stubbled face.

Stiles couldn’t say no to that. He walked stiffly to the table (his muscles were still protesting movement), and sat down gingerly at one of the plates already laid out. He looked down at himself. 

“These are not my clothes...” 

He was wearing a black tee and blue pajama pants, both which were slightly too large.

The man snorted. “Yeah, took you long enough to figure that one out.”

Okay, Stiles could deal with a lot of the weirdness going on right now. The fact that he fell asleep in the middle of a blizzard and woke up in a bed. The fact that the strange man who apparently saved him was strangely handsome for a hermit. Even the fact that Stiles vaguely remembered hallucinating about a black wolf getting its cuddle on with him before he fell asleep. But a dude changing his clothes? 

“Can I ask why?” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Firstly,” the man said, flicking a piece of bacon on a plate, “they were more ice than anything when I got you in here. I threw them in the wash, so you can get them when they come out. Secondly, I had to get you in the tub, and there was no way-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Stiles put up his hands as the man turned to look at him with furrowed brows. “You bathed me?” What the hell? The guy may be hot, and Stiles may be sporting some bisexual contemplation at the moment, but that was just creepy.

The man snorted again. “No. To help with hypothermia I had to get you warm, and warm water is the best way to go about that gently.” The man grabbed the plate of bacon and another plate of scrambled eggs, walking up to the table. “Obviously clothes would hinder that process.” He placed the plates down and looked down at Stiles with a sneer. “Sorry if I hurt your sensibilities, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Stiles would have blushed if he wasn’t so busy shoveling food into his mouth.

Breakfast consisted of Stiles learning the man’s name (Derek) and that the closest town was an hour's drive away. He also learned that he was an idiot for not wearing proper clothing, a moron for getting out of his car without knowing where he was, and an imbecile for letting his cell phone die after Stiles explained why he hadn’t called for help. Stiles would have complained more if the bacon hadn’t been just the right side of soggy and the eggs weren’t cooked to perfection.

He chugged down his second glass of orange juice before asking in the most meek and polite manner he could muster, “Do you mind if I use your phone to call my Dad?” The Sheriff was probably out of his mind with worry after Stiles didn’t call to confirm he arrived at Aunt Vivian’s.

Derek scowled and plucked a cellphone out of his pocket, so old it didn’t even have a touchscreen.

His dad picked up almost immediately. “Stiles this best be you.” He sounded angry and worried.

Stiles cringed. “Hey Dad...”

“Where in god’s name are you? Your Aunt was nearly in tears when I told her you had left last night!”

“Yeah, sorry Dad, about that...” How best to go about this? “I kind of got into an accident.”

“Are you alright? Are you in the hospital? Do you need me to come and get you?” Stiles could hear the Sheriff's car keys jangling as his dad went to pick them up.

“No! No, I’m fine Dad!” No way he was going to be the reason his dad drove hours, in the snow, with a broken leg. It was time for a little white lie, a Stilinksi specialty. “I’m in a hotel.” Stiles looked at Derek with pleading eyes. There was no way the Sheriff was going to be cool with Stiles being in a strange man’s house.

Derek's eyebrow shot up, but he remained silent.

“What? A hotel? And you just think to call me now?” His dad was sounding more and more impatient, and less and less convinced.

Stiles’ rubbed his head. “Yeah, sorry. I had to get the mechanic, and then my cell phone died, and then it was just craziness as I had to set up the hotel room and I just conked out. And then I woke up and rushed to the mechanics to get a quote and here we are. He let me borrow his cell phone.” Just in case his dad checked caller ID.

“Tell me the hotel you’re staying at, I’m coming to get you.”

Oh shit, not good, not good. “Dad, please, I’m fine. I say hotel, but it’s really like a bed and breakfast. The people who own it gave me a great deal, they said I could stay if I helped them fix up a bit.”

“I’ll pay them for the night you spent.” That was his Sheriff voice, the one that left no room for argument.

Stiles blanched. He didn’t have a way to make the bill show up on his credit card. “Dad, no, I’m an adult and I can handle this! If you come and get me then we’ll have to drive all the way up here to get my jeep, and this couple could really, really use some help, they told me I was a god send, honest!”

“I don’t give a damn about-”

Derek swiped the phone from Stiles before the teen had time to react.

“Hello, sir?” Derek’s voice was all professionalism.

Stiles gaped at him and moved to grab the phone back, only to have both his wrists caught by Derek’s free hand. A shudder rippled through him at the action, something he ignored in favor of his increasing annoyance with Derek’s behavior.

“Yes, I’m the mechanic for your son’s jeep. I work out of Pinesgrove, I’m sure you can find it online. Yeah, the damage is pretty severe, it might take awhile to get all the parts. Maybe a few days, especially in this weather. He said he could pay with a credit card, I hope that’s not a problem...”

Stiles struggled desperately against Derek’s hold, earning him a pointed look. The man’s hands were warm against his skin.

“No, I know the couple. The Smiths. They’re very popular in town, very trustworthy. I went to high school with their kids. I can personally tell you he’ll be very well taken care of, though they’ll make him work for his keep. Yes, I understand your concerns, but if you want my advice, it won’t do you any good to get in an accident yourself on your way up here. Another storm’s due to hit soon.”

Stiles had no idea if that was true, but it was just the type of common sense that would actually stop his father from coming. He wondered why he didn’t think of it. Derek's fingertips were rough against Stiles’ smooth skin.

“Yes sir, I realize it’s not normal, but he seems smart. I’m sure he can last a couple of days on his own.” There was a pause before Derek chuckled. “Too much for his own good seems just about right.”

Stiles stuck out his tongue. Light sweat was beginning to form between their skin, but the man’s grip didn’t loosen.

Derek raised yet another eyebrow before continuing, “You have my personal guarantee that he’ll be okay. We’re a small town, not much happens here.” He released Stiles and shoved the phone back with a grunt.

Stiles rubbed an offended wrist with what would have been, if not for Stiles’ infinite manliness, a pout, before grabbing the phone back.

The Sheriff sounded resigned. “I’m letting you stay for now, but you best help the Smiths out to make up for it. And pay for your room anyway, and don’t forget to thank them.”

Stiles pounded the air in victory, only to lower it with a frown when Derek smirked. “Yeah, sure thing Dad. Can you call Aunt Vivian for me? I don’t want her to worry. And tell her I’m sorry I can’t make it.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand. Don’t get into any trouble, and call me everyday, okay? I suppose you’re getting more than you bargained for with this little adventure.”

Stiles glanced quickly at Derek, who was examining his fingernails. “You could say that...” 

+++

Stiles leg bounced as he waited for Derek to get off the phone. He kept getting glances from the man, and would calm his leg. Then he would wait for Derek to look away again before starting it up again.

“Are they coming for her?” he asked as Derek hanged up the phone. Stiles’ jeep was his love, and it had pained him to think of her on the side of the road, covered in snow, all alone and scared.

“I described it and said the road you crashed on. He promised to try to get out tomorrow after the next storm hits. He’ll call with a price estimate when it gets in the shop.”

“Okay...” Stiles bit his bottom lip, a motion the man followed with his eyes. “To be honest, I’m not sure what to do from here...”

“Well, I don’t want to be trapped in town in a blizzard, so you’ll have to stay here for another night at least.” Derek’s tone suggested this was a hardship to be suffered on his part.

Stiles fidgeted. “I don’t want to impose...” Not that he really had a choice. And maybe, even though the chances were abysmally low, he was a little curious about his rescuer who lived in the woods all alone. Stiles was living proof that curiosity may have killed the cat, but he was still up and kicking despite years living the vice.

“Not like you really have a choice. Just sit here and don’t get into trouble.” Derek stood up and walked towards the door without so much as a glance.

“Where are you going?” So much for polite conversation.

Derek grunted as he pulled on a boot. “I’m getting some firewood before the storm hits.”

“Oh! Dude, is there any chance we can swing by and grab-”

“No.” The man shot him a glare while pulling on his jacket. “I’m not getting trapped outside in a storm, and you’re not allowed to leave the house without me. I don’t need you getting lost and freezing to death. Again.”

The retort died on Stiles’ lips as the man walked out the door without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _That was when he noticed a streak of black beneath the pine trees, and as soon as he caught sight of it two brilliant blue eyes connected with his. His breath hitched in his lungs, and he couldn’t believe it, there was no way. There were no wolves in California._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just to let you know this is unbeta'd, so anything you catch edit wise please let me know!
> 
> On that note, if anyone is willing, I could really use a beta. I'm willing to beta in exchange? I'm an English major so I pretty much know my stuff.
> 
> Also, just to let you know, nothing gets me writing faster and better than comments and suggestions ;D Telling me what you want to see in the story usually yields very nice results!

Stiles didn’t handle boredom well. Well, that perhaps was an understatement. His ADHD constantly had him doing something, anything, and there was absolutely nothing to do in the cabin. And, trust him, Stiles looked.

First he searched the entire house, top to bottom. It didn’t yield many results, mostly because three of the rooms were locked, and who the heck locked an indoor room from the outside? He contemplated briefly searching for a key, but thinking on how the cabin’s owner may take the intrusion, it didn’t seem worth the risk. The three rooms open, the guest room, the laundry room, and the bathroom, didn’t have much to them. Stiles threw his washed clothes in the dryer and went to take a hot shower.

After he drained the pipes of every ounce of warm water they would produce, he wrapped himself in a (seemingly uncharacteristic of the owner) fluffy towel and made his way to the laundry room to put on his nice warm clothes. Toeing on his shoes, he decided to explore outside a bit.

Stepping outside revealed the cabin to be, indeed, a log cabin, because not only was Derek a hermit he was also apparently a mountain man. God, Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised if the man chopped down the trees himself. The cold air was still, no wind to be found, but the clouds looked like soggy gray cotton, saturating the sky.

The porch was empty of comfy chairs, really bringing to question why there even was a porch. The cabin was lifted upwards in a way that spoke of a basement, and indeed there were small flat windows low to the ground. Stiles decided one of the mystery doors held the stairs to it.

A walk around the cabin found that one of the rooms was an office, a tempting desktop seeming to shine with a halo of hope in the dark room. Stiles nearly salivated at the thought of internet access. Against perhaps better judgement, he tried to open the window. Failing that, he went on to the next room to find it hidden by white curtains, and Stiles decided it was probably Derek’s room. He didn’t attempt to open that window.

Given that the surrounding area was just a forest of pine, and the cold was settling through his clothes, he went back in the house and made himself some hot cocoa. (He was glad that Derek was normal enough to at least have packets of the stuff lying around.) Still feeling a bit chilled, he grabbed the guest bedroom’s comforter, dragged it to the living room, and decided to watch a DVD.

Derek seemed to have a thing for survival movies and high profile dramas. There were a few animal documentaries, and one with a grey wolf on the cover caught his eye. Thinking of his (maybe) sighting (perhaps hallucination) of a wolf on the side of the road, Stiles popped in the DVD, snuggled onto the couch with his cocoa, and hit play.

+++

Derek came back to a discussion on pack dynamics and mating rituals. 

_Although some wolves are solitary, most are highly gregarious animals. The basic social unit of a wolf pack is the mated pair, accompanied by the pair's adult offspring._

Stiles (vaguely) remembered the whole alpha, beta, omega thing, but most of the video had been pretty educational. It had stated that California hadn’t had a wolf population in years though, further discrediting his mystery wolf vision.

Derek glanced at the screen with an enigmatic look, which Stiles took to be the man’s go to facial expression. He settled his gaze on Stiles. “There were extra blankets in the linen closet.”

_Wolf packs rarely adopt other wolves into their fold, and typically kill them._

Stiles shrugged. “Me and this comforter have a history. I didn’t wanna be unfaithful.”

Derek rolled his eyes (obviously he was low on humor appreciation) and put down the pile of firewood bundled in his arms, stripping off his coat and boots. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked gruffly.

Stiles shrugged again. “Not really. I made some hot cocoa, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s fine. Make yourself at home.” Derek looked away awkwardly and scratched the back of his head, as if allergic to whatever sentiment the statement held. “I’m going to make hamburgers for dinner, is that okay with you?”

_In the rare cases where strange wolves are adopted, the adoptee is almost invariably an immature animal unlikely to compete for breeding rights with the mated pair._

“Hell yeah!” Stiles couldn’t help but smile at his good fortune. “I’m always down for burgers man.”

Derek grunted, but a ghost of a grin flickered on his lips. “Don’t expect anything amazing.” He started towards the kitchen

A sudden thought hit the teen. “Hey, do you mind if I check my email and stuff with your computer?”

Derek halted in his tracks, and Stiles felt his smile falter. The man turned back to him with a glare that seemed way too intense for the conversation at hand. “How did you know I had an office?”

“Oh, um...” Stiles didn’t really know what landmine he had stepped on, but it was kind of freaking him out. The conversation had seemed to be going so well. “I saw it through the window when I went outside-”

“I specifically asked you,” Derek ground out, each word emphasized, “to stay inside the house.”

_Wolves are highly territorial animals, and generally establish territories far larger than they require to survive in order to assure a steady supply of prey._

“Well, I mean, it’s not like I stepped that far away dude, I barely even cleared five feet from the cabin!” Stiles retorted defensively, his hands flinging upwards in emphasis. This was ridiculous, did Derek think he was a kid?

“You almost _died_ last night!” barked Derek, his temper flaring, and whoa where was this coming from all the sudden? “Do you realize that? You almost froze to death, and you’re gonna argue with me on this?”

“Oh, come off it,” Stiles said in a bid to defuse the tension, “it’s not like I’m going to go all _Hatchet_ and venture into the woods for a fun winter of beat-the-odds-of-death-”

“You’re under my protection while you’re staying here, and I promised your dad I would look after you. Do you really want me to have to call him and have to explain that I let his son die?”

_The wolf is generally monogamous, with mated pairs usually remaining together for life._

Derek was serious too, Stiles could see it in the way his eyes had no hesitation. The man was seriously thinking that Stiles was going to be distracted by something shiny and go gallivanting in the woods and freeze to death! “Look, how old do you think I am?” This was getting to be insulting.

“Not old enough to realize you should put on more than a fucking _hoodie_ when traveling during the winter in the mountains.” Derek was pacing now, his posture rigid. “Not old enough to realize you should have stayed in your car when you got in an accident, and waited for someone else to drive by and see you. Or even stay on the main road until it led you to a town. No, you decided go into the fucking woods, hoping forest animals would help you out, like you’re a fucking Disney princess.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Stiles emphasized, gobsmacked, “what is your freakin problem? You sound like an angry version of my Dad right now. What do you care what I decided to do? You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to know that you almost died, and I would have been the one to find your body!” The shout vibrated through the empty house.

Stiles stood up. “Well then, sorry to inconvenience you dude, but just because I made a mistake doesn’t mean you can act like a douche.” With that he stomped to the guest room and closed it with a slam.

+++

Stiles hadn’t thought that he would have been able to take a nap with all the anger boiling inside him, but it seemed his body had not yet fully recovered its near meeting with an icy death. He cocooned the underblanket around him (he had forgotten to grab the comforter, and no way he was leaving the room now), and found himself drifting to sleep quicker than he would expect.

When he woke the sky was black, the white snow whipping past the window in a flurry of movement. He rubbed his eyes and slowly remembered the weird fight between him and Derek. He was still kinda sawdy about it, where did the guy come off getting angry like that? Sure, Stiles could see how saving a freezing teenager from the snow could be freaky... And, admittedly, it would suck to have to call Stiles dad if he died... And, in the end, it was kinda nice that Derek cared enough to worry about him getting hurt. 

Still didn’t have to be such a douche about it.

Stiles opened the door to a plate with two burgers, carefully covered with saran wrap, and that was when the guilt hit him. Maybe he shouldn’t have argued with the dude who was, after all, letting Stiles stay in his house for free. It would have been really easy to just say sorry and submit, but Stiles was never one to let it go without a fight. Even if he felt like shit afterwards.

After swinging by the bathroom, he carried the plate to the kitchen to heat it up in the microwave, and considered what he was going to say to Derek tomorrow. An apology seemed in order, but Stiles was only good with words until they mattered.

The wind whistled outside, and he was suddenly overcome with the curiosity to check out the blizzard, something he had seen only rarely. He decided that the porch counted as ‘inside the house,’ and doubted that Derek would even notice if he did step out real quick. Not even bothering his sneakers, he opened the door to the white world before him, great sheets of snow falling upon the earth.

When he wasn’t trapped inside it, it was actually kind of beautiful. He would, of course, always prefer the forever warm Beacon Hills, when he only had to worry about chilly nights rather than cold winters. But still, every once in awhile it was nice to see something different. Something dangerously beautiful.

That was when he noticed a streak of black beneath the pine trees, and as soon as he caught sight of it two brilliant blue eyes connected with his. His breath hitched in his lungs, and he couldn’t believe it, there was no way. There were no wolves in California.

It stalked (okay, maybe it just walked, but it was a wolf so stalk is a good description of it’s day to day walking movements) forward, and yeah, no way that was a super rare black mountain cat or something. That was definitely a wolf.

Stiles couldn’t say why he didn’t close the door, because he knew that wolves were dangerous, especially desperate ones. And an animal trapped in the middle of a snowstorm? That seemed like it would make it pretty desperate. And if it attacked and killed him that wouldn’t be cool, because then hunters would go after it and wolves were rare enough in America as it was, and PETA would haunt his dead ass, wait that didn’t make sense, but still. It wasn’t like he had a death wish, whatever Derek might think.

But he didn’t. He just sorta gaped as it walked closer and closer, and noticed how calm it looked. It wasn’t snarling or hunched up, it didn’t show any sign of aggression. Just calm. It stepped onto the porch and Stiles brain still hadn’t caught up with- _hello? danger!_ \- because it came right up to him and nosed his hand.

Stiles suddenly had a revelation, right at that moment. There was a reason why this wolf seemed so human friendly. A reason why it had the instinct to keep him warm that night. Why it wasn’t attacking him right now. It was so obvious, he wondered why he hadn’t seen it before.

It was a dog-wolf hybrid.

Stiles grinned down at the poor dog-wolf, and squatted down so he went to pet the dog-wolf’s head. It ducked and avoided the hand, and Stiles remembered something about dogs finding that to be an act of aggression. He slowly went to pet the wolf-dog’s neck instead. The dog-wolf (wait, that’s way too long to say, Stiles would just call it the wolf) allowed him to do so, and its fur was thick and soft despite the snow that clung to it.

“Hey Wolfy, what you doing out here all alone?” Stiles all but cooed at the furry beast.

The wolf regarded him with a somber expression before butting his head to Stiles’ chest.

“What? Or, you want to come inside?” Stiles bit his lip. “I’m not sure if Derek would be cool with that, but then again, you saved my life. I guess I have to return the favor?” He would deal with Derek in the morning, though that was probably going to be a challenge and a half.

Stiles stood up and opened the door wider, giving Wolfy room to get inside. The animal hesitated at the doorstep, and looked like it wanted to go back into the forest. Poor thing must have never been inside a human home before.

“Its okay, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I just don’t want you to go and die in the blizzard or something. I’ll get you some nice hamburger meat, would you like that? I’m sure you’re hungry.”

After another moment of hesitation, the wolf stepped inside.

+++

Cuddling with a wolf on a bed was like, the legit best thing ever. Seriously. Stiles had never had a dog before (his mom was allergic, and after she passed it had seemed kinda of sanscrit to bring it up), but Stiles was seriously considering adopting Wolfy and begging his dad to bring him home, cause Scott was a cool bro but nothing beat cuddle sessions with a huge bundle of soft, warm fur that licked your face sometimes.

And yeah, Wolfy was decidedly a boy after Stiles got a glance during the first belly rub. And that was okay, because Stiles was an equal opportunity lover. Man, wouldn’t that be awesome? If Wolfy was a dude.

“I’d bet you’d be pretty hot,” he mumbled. He was lying in the bed now, covered in the comforter, his arms free so he could pet Wolfy’s head, which perked up at the sound of Stiles’ voice. “Yeah, you’d probably be all buff and shit, and all mysterious. Lone wolf style. Just imagine it...”

What he imagined was Derek, but he wasn’t going to tell even Wolfy that. That was just ludicrous. There was no way he was crushing on the guy already. Even though it had taken the span of 10 seconds to realize his crush to Lydia Martin, but that had been in elementary school. Stiles was wiser now, older. He wasn’t going to confuse his appreciation with how handsome Derek was with actual feelings. The guy had the social grace of a larvae.

Wolfy licked Stiles cheek in a long swipe. Stiles groaned playfully and wiped it off with a sleeve, but went silent as he saw the fabric. Derek had left him pajamas, a little loose, true, but lengthwise it fit him just fine, proving that he was probably around Derek’s height. It had been a far flung hope when he opened the drawer, but he guessed that Derek must have left pajamas for him. Maybe he was a kind of nice guy.

Stiles went back to petting Wolfy’s head. “I hope he’s not too mad at me about you. If he complains I promise I’ll defend you. You saved my life after all.” 

Though so did Derek.

But what if Derek didn’t even let Stiles keep Wolfy in the house? It was cold out there, and Stiles had watched the video. He knew how dangerous it was for lone wolves. Worse, what if hunters found him? Suddenly the image of grizzled men with ridiculously huge shotguns bearing down on his new friend, poor Wolfy bloody and with a broken leg and whimpering and-

Oh, god no. Stiles hugged his newest best friend (somehow Stiles doubted Scott would complain sharing the title with a kick ass, life saving wolf). “I won’t let Derek kick you out man, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll protect you.”

He snuggled up close and Wolfy didn’t seem to mind. He fell asleep like that, radiating in the wolf’s warmth, though a question lingered in his mind. Wolfy’s eyes were blue. What color were Derek’s?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The porch felt cold beneath Stiles, and Derek’s words fed the lingering fears that had built up during the day when Wolfy hadn’t come back. There was barely a breeze, and the snow had stopped falling. The sky was dark purple, crushed velvet with glitters of stars. The moon was overripe. The night was never this beautiful at Beacon Hills._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, my scenes are really dialog heavy lately. I hope you guys don't mind =/
> 
> Please don't expect me to keep up this frantic pace! I feel like I'm giving you the impression I write this fast all the time OTL School work has come a-tumblin down, so yeah, my current pace is not a set indicator of future updates.

Stiles woke up to the thought of letting Wolfy outside so he didn’t pee on Derek’s floor. It only took a few seconds to notice a curious lack of warm fluffiness, and when he did his eyes shot open and he sprang up in bed, looking wildly about him, and yeah, Wolfy was nowhere to be seen. He began to flail about the room, looking under the bed and behind the dresser, and when that proved useless Stiles flung the door open and rushed to the living room. 

Derek was seated at the table, eating breakfast calmly, and his response to the frazzled Stiles was merely to raise an eyebrow. There was no sign of Wolfy.

“Oh, hey, good morning,” Stiles blabbered, plastering on a fake grin. 

Derek grunted. “Are you going to eat some breakfast?”

Stiles nodded slowly and took a seat, glancing at the man beneath his eyelashes. He didn’t quite know what had happened before he woke up, but it was obvious that Wolfy (having no opposable thumbs and all) hadn’t let himself out of the guest room.

How best to go about this? A plead for forgiveness may be the best start. Followed by trying to get Derek on his side- and why the hell hadn’t the man said anything yet? Stiles supposed that most homeowners would be pretty pissed if a wild animal (however awesome and actually home friendly that animal may be) was let into their home. Derek didn’t even look mad though.

“This is good sausage,” Stiles complemented. He didn’t really think the buttering up approach was going to work with Derek, but at least the man wasn’t desensitized to the tactical maneuver like Stiles’ dad.

Derek (well spoken as always) grunted again.

“You know, I bet we’re going to have a lot left over.” Stiles swirled his ketchup smothered eggs around his plate.

“Good. We can have the leftovers for lunch then.”

Stiles made a face. “Or we could, you know, give it to the less fortunate.”

Derek looked around him, as if Tiny Tim was going to spring up at his elbow. “Anyone you had in mind?”

Stiles burst like a melon hitting the sidewalk. “Okay, I’m really sorry that I let him in and I would have asked you if I thought you weren’t asleep and I didn’t think that you wanted me to wake you up, but It was really cold last night and he looked like he was hungry and he didn’t pee on anything (at least in my room, I’m sorry if he peed on something else, I swear I’ll clean it) but I-”

Derek clapped his hand over Stiles’ mouth. It was warm, calloused, and the last thing the teen was expecting. It was effective in muting him immediately. And shutting Stiles up? Not an easy task.

Derek waited a moment for Stiles to calm down before removing his hand, staring at him intently. “I’m not upset. I understand why you let him in. He’s not a pet. You can’t keep him.”

Stiles heart sunk into his stomach. “But _why_?” he couldn’t help but whine. “He likes me. We got our cuddle on and everything.”

Derek shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding Stiles’ pleading eyes. “He’s a wolf. He’s not meant to be with humans. Let him be. Just because he has an unnatural affinity for you, god knows why-” 

Stiles slammed his hands on the table, the plates clanking lightly. “Maybe it’s not that he only likes me, maybe he just hates you! Did you ever think of that?” He knew he was getting a bit worked up about this, but he had made plans dammit! Family portraits had been visualized, buddy outings had been planned!

Derek’s eyes flashed dangerously. “He’s a wild animal. He doesn’t want to be owned.” His voice was still calm, but the words had a sharp edge.

“Okay, first off, he’s at _least_ half dog, I’m sure of it.”

Derek’s black eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “How did you even-”

“Dude,” Stiles cut off, annoyed, “I said first off. Implying other offs- er, well, points! SECOND off, we obviously have a connection that is undeniable and awesome. Though his wolf side makes him hated, his dog side obviously craves human companionship- it’s like Balto, didn’t you ever see that movie?”

Derek crossed his arms. “He’s a wolf and a wild animal. You can’t take him home.” He said it defensively, like he was personally offended by Stiles awesomely insightful theory of Wolfy’s heritage.

“He’s all alone out there!” And damn, that thought was sad. Stiles’ voice grew soft, because Derek had to see how sad it was. “He doesn’t have a pack or anyone to take care of him. He needs that. He needs someone.”

The glare that came from Derek was not what Stiles was going for when playing the whole sympathy card. “You’re wrong. He doesn’t need anyone. He can look after himself.”

“Then why did he come to me?” His voice was rising again, his frustration bleeding into his words. “Why did he approach me in the first place, if he didn’t want the undeniable pleasure that is the Stilinksi bromance?”

Derek’s look was one of well manicured dismissal. “A mistake, that’s all. He was just confused.”

“Well, all the more reason he should come home with me.” Stiles could see this was a losing battle, but he was going to go down with this ship. One last plea, one last attempt at the icy substance that Derek called a heart. “He’s lost, man... and probably scared. He wouldn’t be scared with me.”

“Maybe he’s not the one that’s scared.” Derek stood up. “Maybe you are.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that as the man grabbed his coat and boots and walked out the door. He ate the rest of his breakfast, silently fuming, but a weird thought crept from the back of his mind. Thinking back on it, Derek’s eyes were hazel, right? They were pretty noticeable, vivid greens and splashes of brown.

So why, when he replayed the conversation in his head, did Stiles imagine them the same bright blue of Wolfy’s eyes?

+++

“Are you going to wait out here much longer?”

It was the first thing Derek had said to Stiles since breakfast. The man had spent most of the day outside, mountain manning it up or whatever it was weird hermit cabin owners did. When he had come back Stiles was on his third movie. They had both stubbornly ignored each other.

Stiles was sitting on the porch with a cup of what was once hot chocolate. “He’ll come. He probably just wandered too far off or something. He’ll come back, I’m sure of it.”

“You can always wait inside and look out the window. I’d bet he’d scratch at the door or something.” Derek was leaning in the doorway, talking to Stiles’ back. He sounded awkwardly kind.

Stiles took a sip from his mug while watching the treeline, refusing to look away for even a moment. “No dude, if he doesn’t see me he might not approach the house at all.”

Derek stared out into the forest as well. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

The porch felt cold beneath Stiles, and Derek’s words fed the lingering fears that had built up during the day when Wolfy hadn’t come back. There was barely a breeze, and the snow had stopped falling. The sky was dark purple, crushed velvet with glitters of stars. The moon was overripe. The night was never this beautiful at Beacon Hills.

“No,” Stiles stubbornly decided, “I don’t want him thinking I abandoned him. I don’t want him to think I just gave up. He’s gotta know I have faith.” Stiles glared behind him. He hadn’t quite forgiven Derek yet. “Even if you don’t let him inside.”

The man shrugged, nonchalant. “He can come in, I just don’t think he’s going to show. Come on, it’s freezing. Maybe he’ll show up tomorrow.”

“And maybe he’ll show up tonight,” Stiles snapped back. He was moodily silent for awhile. When Derek didn’t leave he added, “Besides, bros don’t let bros sleep in the snow.” It was still cold outside, and even if Wolfy was the warmest pile of fur ever, he was all by himself. Wolf packs tended to sleep in large groups to maintain body warmth. And Stiles was the only pack Wolfy had right now.

“Bros? Don’t owners call pets their babies or something?” The distaste of such a practice was evident in Derek’s tone.

“Naw man, Dad’s going to be his dad. I’m his brother.”

“Quite a family dynamic you have going there.” The sentence was dripping with sarcasm.

It was Stiles’ turn to shrug. “It’ll be the fullest I’ve had in awhile.” He bit his lip after staying it. It was kind of obvious he didn’t have a mom anymore, right? What with him asking to call his dad, not his parents. And it wasn’t like he just dropped the bombshell that she was dead or anything, though Stiles was betting that was what Derek assumed. It’s what most people assumed.

Derek was quiet for awhile. “I’m going to head inside. Don’t stay out too long, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re probably scaring him off anyway,” Stiles chided, still feeling a bit embarrassed. “Away with yee! No, wait!” He turned around and put out a hand. “Can I borrow your cell phone? I have to call my dad.”

Derek pulled the phone out of his pocket and leaned forward to plop it in Stiles’ hand. The boy suppressed the urge to fidget as he got a close up of Derek’s annoyingly handsome face, with annoyingly rugged stubble and annoyingly pretty eyes that stared at him way too intensely. Stiles had gotten tons of compliments of his own eyes over the years, by the way. The ladies loved swooning over their caramel colors that shifted in the light. (Okay, the ladies were usually old enough to be his grandma, but they were ladies just the same.)

Stiles looked away with a quiet thanks, and turned back around to return to his ever vigilant watch.

Derek paused for a moment, his breath slowly warming Stiles’ neck, before straightening up and walking inside. “Leave it in the living room when you’re done, I’m going to sleep,” he muttered before closing the door behind him.

As Stiles typed in the number he had to wonder if Derek was allergic to human interaction in general, or just acts of kindness. His dad answered on the third ring, and from there it was a mad dash of making up a string of lies to match the Sheriff's interrogation. The story ended up with Stiles checking in on his jeep (even though, yes dad, it was night, Derek was going to give him a ride home), before he realized that his dad had said Derek’s name before he did.

“I can’t believe I didn’t ask him when we first talked,” the Sheriff answered upon questioning. “He was courteous enough to call me last night after you left the shop, something my ingrate son obviously forgot about.”

“Hey, I had already talked to you that day, that doesn’t count!” He couldn’t believe that Derek had taken the time to call his dad. The old guilt from last night started to dredge up again. “And everything’s fine so I don’t know why I have to call you now. No news is good news, right?”

“Stiles, when you’re worried about someone you want to know they’re okay. Even if it’s just a day. You’ll understand that someday.”

He thought of Wolfy. Maybe he already did. Speaking of Wolfy- “Hey, Dad, have you ever thought that maybe we should get a dog.” Stiles tried to make the question seem as hypothetical as possible.

“Okay, I think it’s obvious you’re talking about a specific dog here.” The Sheriff sounded wary.

“I’m not saying I have one- okay, I may have one in mind, but Dad he could really, really use a home. And he already likes me. Like, really likes me, he came up to me and everything.”

His dad was silent for a strangling moment before saying, “Hell, why not.”

Stiles pumped his fist. “Yes! Dad, you will not regret this!”

“But you’re going to have to take care of him. Take him for walks, make sure he knows to go outside-”

“Yeah, Dad, trust me I know-”

“And do not expect me to do any of that for you, because he’s going to be your dog and your responsibility-”

“Totally, my responsibility, I get it-”

“And what does he look like anyway?”

Stiles enthusiastically began his rant of the most perfect dog- well, dog-wolf, but his dad didn’t need to know that- ever.“Oh, well he’s big and has black fur. He looks kinda like a wolf, so I called him Wolfy.” He couldn’t stop grinning.

“Aren’t you worried that the neighbors might be a little scared?” The Sheriff sounded like he was smiling too.

“That’s why it’s ironic dad, remember when I tried to teach you about irony? Anyway he has the most intense blue eyes ever, and I do mean ever-”

His dad laughed. “Are you describing a dog or a love interest here?”

“No, but seriously, he’s huge! And he’s super nice Dad, you’re going to love him, and- and he’s here.”

Holy shit, he was here- of course, Wolfy was always going to come, Stiles had absolutely no doubts that his newest best bud was going to let him down- but holy crap, Wolfy was there, was right in front of him and he hadn’t even noticed.

“That’s good. You sound shocked. Is he a stray? You’ll have to take him to Deaton as soon as you come home, try to get Scott to give us a discount, okay?”

“Yeah Dad.” Stiles put out a hand, and Wolfy walked up and rubbed his head against it. The teen's smile was nearly splitting his face in two. “I’m going to go feed him.”

After a few more questions- yes, Wolfy was people friendly (Stiles was sure of it, no matter what Derek said), yes, he was house trained (he hadn’t peed all night, right?), yes, Wolfy was his name and his dad was not allowed to call him anything but (except for Wolf E. Stilinski when he got in trouble)- and a quick good night, Stiles was off the phone and in full on wolf hugging mode.

+++

“Is it really an invasion of privacy if it’s just looking at his contacts?” 

Wolfy’s head shot up from his plate on the floor. Stiles had lovingly heated up some leftover eggs and sausage for his new companion. (Dinner had consisted of a sandwich since Derek hadn’t seemed up for cooking.) The wolf had chowed down immediately while Stiles sat watching at the table, and he hoped that Derek hadn’t meant to eat that as a late night snack. As far as he knew, the dude had gone to bed without eating anything.

“I mean, it’s just a list of names. Names! I shouldn’t even be curious.” His thumb stroked the shiny silver cover. “But what if they’re like, coded? What if he has things like Booty Call #1, or Chick Who’s Down for Oral, or something like that?”

Wolfy walked up to Stiles with what the boy would swear to be a judging gaze. He nosed at Stiles thigh, as if in warning. And whoa, he was getting way too caught up in the guilt of doing this, if he was giving his wolf (how fucking cool is that, Stiles now had a wolf) such characteristics.

“I mean, why do I even care? It’s not like I’m jealous or anything. I barely know the guy!” Wolfy seemed to flinch at his volume, and Stiles lowered his voice. It would suck to wake up Derek, especially given the conversation. “What do I care if he has a town full of hussies waiting to give him some. Coz I don’t, I don’t care how many numbers he has in here. In fact, I don’t care so much, it doesn’t matter if I do look, right?”

Wolfy growled, which was weird. He had never growled before.

Stiles rubbed the wolf’s velvety ears while flipping the phone open. “Chill dude, he’ll never even know.”

There wasn’t hundreds of female numbers on his contacts list. There was only one, the only personal name period. Laura. Somehow, it was so much worse.

Stiles stared at the screen. “Who’s Laura?” He couldn’t help the hurt creeping in his voice.

Wolfy whined softly, almost as if he could feel Stiles’ lurking dejection. Hey, that actually happened though, right? Pets were always getting sad and shit when they’re owners got sad. It just showed how close they were.

It wasn’t like he was going to cry or anything, but he couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Of course he has someone. Dude that fine looking, why did I even get my hopes up- not that I had. Gotten my hopes up or anything. Not like I care if he’s single or anything. It’s just surprising, that’s all, since he’s the most anti-social creature on the planet.” He rolled his eyes. “I bet it’s his sister or something, truth be told.”

Wolfy licked his hand.

“You think so?” Stiles glanced back at the phone. “I mean, it could be. Maybe I should check the texts?”

Wolfy growled again.

Ignoring him (he was a wolf, what did he know?), Stiles decided to look through the messages.

_Derek, please come home // I miss you // How are you? // Please, please come home // Where are you? // I still love you // You’re still my little brother // That will never, ever change // How was your day? // It’s not your fault // It was never your fault // I love you so much // What are you up to? // Please come home // Derek please // Please // I love you_

Derek had never replied

What had happened? What wasn’t Derek’s fault? These questions came unbidden, haunting in their mystery. They came with an overwhelming pity for the lonely man, all by himself in a snowy cabin.

Stiles closed the phone, suddenly feeling sick. “Shit dude, you were right.” He put it on the table and stood up, disgusted with himself. How could he do that? No one deserved to have their privacy taken away like that. Especially with something that seemed so big, so bitter. God, Stiles felt like shit.

Wolfy regarded him with somber eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles startled himself with his words, but he felt drained after saying them. Tired. He sunk to his knees and hugged the wolf tight. “I’m sorry.” He had to tell someone, because he would never find the courage to say that to Derek.

Wolfy licked his cheek softly, as if in forgiveness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There, the cover shining in the light, was the most epic movie Derek could have admitted to owning. Was there anything more freaking appropriate? Stiles thought not. Derek, for his part, scowled at the boy’s theatrics and shoved some popcorn in his mouth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thinking of expanding on my “A Bloody Embrace” fic by making it a series revolving around the theme of blood. These would be a collection of short one-shots, so I hope you guys enjoy it! (Not sure when I’ll do that though)
> 
> I also might be going on a hiatus now for school work, shouldn't last more than a few days.
> 
> Some questions for you guys (feel free to ignore).
> 
> 1\. Would you mind if I started writing fanfics simultaneously, or would you rather I stick to one and keep at it?
> 
> 2\. Do you mind if I do things like “ask the author” or mini-prompts on the tumblr page? (I would love to develop more of a connection with you guys, but I promised this wouldn’t be a spam tumblr and I really want to know what you guys would consider spam!)
> 
> 3\. Do you have any plot suggestions for Red Against the Snow or the "Bloody Series"?

Stiles woke to the sound of knocking at the bedroom door. Blurry eyed and mumbling (Wolfy was nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t too big of a surprise), he opened it to find Derek looking bright eyed and awake. Okay, maybe not bright eyed, he doubted the man would ever really look bright eyed despite having naturally pretty bright eyes, but awake. Stiles resented him for that.

“We have to collect your things before the tow truck gets it,” Derek told him, avoiding eye contact.

“They haven’t already gotten it?” He was so sleepy he forgot to use the proper pronoun for his baby (because his car was a lovely she, naturally).

“They were waiting for the roads to be salted, but I got a call they’re heading here soon.” Derek put his hands in his jacket. “So if you want your stuff we have to go now or not at all.”

Stiles yelped and rushed to the dresser drawer, flinging off his pajamas. It wasn’t until he was scrambling for his shirt hat he noticed that Derek was watching him from the doorway. Stiles paused and bit his lip. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to guys seeing him change, he did play lacrosse after all, but there was something different in teenage boys changing together and the way that Derek’s eyes seemed to slide up and down Stiles’ lanky frame. It made Stiles remember just how pale and unmusculer he was, and wondered if Derek was disgusted or... There was really no way to tell, cause Derek was doing that stoic, enigmatic, I’m a manly man so you can’t know my mysterious thoughts look. Either way, Stiles was ridiculously close to blushing, something he knew would spread from his face to his bare chest.

“Are you going to get dressed or stand there naked?” Derek’s voice sounded a tad rougher than usual, something Stiles put down to impatience.

Quickly flinging on his clothes and walking back to the doorway, Derek eyed him with a look that Stiles knew was distaste.

“What?” Stiles raised an arm and smelled his pit. “It’s not like they’re that dirty or anything.”

“You need more clothes,” Derek said simply, and walked into his room at the other side of the hall so quickly that Stiles didn’t even have time to take a peek.

The teenager supposed he was going to have to fend for his own breakfast, and luckily there was still leftovers from yesterday (Wolfy had stopped after his third plate) which he quickly reheated and jammed down his throat.

The pile of clothing Derek deposited on the couch seemed like way too much to fit on one body, and Stiles said so.

“You don’t wear that much stuff,” he argued as Derek shoved piece after piece for him to put on.

“I’m used to the cold.”

The clothes started to feel like a personal sauna by the time they were all put on, and Stiles was eager to be outside. It felt like he was more waddling than walking, and he didn’t know how he was going to help carry stuff at this rate. Not that Derek, Mister Muscle Extraordinaire, probably needed any help. They did keep out the cold though, and Stiles barely felt the light wind except on an exposed sliver of his face, from eyes to mouth, and there had been a mini argument over that particular body part being exposed. Stiles had the creeping feeling that Derek had less than honorable reasons for wanting to keep the teen's mouth covered though, but no way in hell was he giving up the ability to speak. It just went against his general Stileness.

They were out of sight of the cabin before Stiles realized that they were still, technically, in an argument, and he wasn’t sure if they had made up yet. Derek had, in the end, let Wolfy stay the night. And there was truly very little the man could do to stop Stiles from taking the animal home. Thinking of his new companion, Stiles glanced about him in an attempt to see if the wolf was lurking around.

“Don’t try calling out, he won’t come,” Derek told him sourly. 

God, everything he said was sour. He was a total sour-mountain-man- no wait, that didn’t sound good. Note to Stiles: think of awesome insulting nickname revolving around a pun towards the insult sourpuss.

“Like you know,” Stiles muttered back, but he didn’t really feel like getting his hopes up and looking like a fool if Wolfy didn’t come. He doubted the animal would really have trouble finding him, in any case. “Why do you keep letting him out of my room anyway? I had been hoping for the whole family movie moment of him waking me up by licking my face.”

Derek’s nose wrinkled.

“Hey! It’s a very legitimate bonding experience!”

The eye rolling was really not an indication of Derek’s understanding. “I let him out so he didn’t piss all over my house. If you woke up earlier I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Stiles sniffed loudly. “Wolfy would not have pissed in the room.”

Derek paused in his tracks, his eyes widening. “ _Wolfy_? You named him _Wolfy_?”

Stiles stopped too. Had he really not said that in front of Derek before? “Ah, yeah dude. It’s suppose to be ironic, cause he’s part wolf and all.”

“Then why didn’t you just name him Wolf?” The man sounded personally insulted.

“Cause his full name is Wolf E. Stilinski, and that’s awesome because it’s classy yet rhymes, so that the ladies can aww over it. There are many factors that come into play here.” Also it was the first thing Stiles had thought of, but it had felt right, somehow. If Wolfy had a name embedded deep within him, or had been a human in a past life or something, he had probably been named Wolfy too. It felt spiritual like that.

Derek started walking again, his face clouded.

Stiles didn’t know why the man had to get so personal with his name making decisions. It wasn’t like Derek was going to be co-owner or anything. In fact, Stiles wasn’t even going to see Mr. Grump again after he left.

Stiles wasn’t going to see Derek again after he left.

The thought panicked him a bit, which was weird. He hated the guy, right? They had argued every day. Literally, every day, even though that was only two days. He was pretty sure they were going to argue today, the whole clothes conversation and Wolfy discussion notwithstanding. Why would his guts lurch at the idea that he would never meet Derek again? It should be relief he was feeling, not this. Whatever this was.

He briefly wondered if he should ask Derek for his cell number, and wondered how weird that would be. Before he had time to answer himself he realized they were in front of his Jeep.

“Oh, Baby,” he cried out, rushing to her side. She was an absolute wreck. Her hood was scrunched up, her headlights were broken, and she was covered in a sheet of snow. Stiles loving wiped a sleeve across her window and unlocked her doors with a click, muttering promises that he was going to get her fixed, and how sorry he was that he had to leave her.

Derek pointedly ignored this loving exchange and grabbed the backpack and laptop case from the backseat. “This it?”

“Yeah. Here, I’ll carry them.” Stiles extended an arm.

Derek shouldered the backpack and closed the car door before making his way back to the tree line. Stiles scrambled to follow.

It wasn’t until they had walked a few minutes in silence before Stiles realized what day it was. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered to Derek, feeling kind of lost for proper protocol.

Derek was quiet for a few beats before answering, “Merry Christmas.” It sounded weird, hearing something so friendly come from the man’s mouth (despite it still sounding a bit gravely), but Stiles lit up at the sentence.

“It’s weird, you know. Usually I would be opening presents with my Dad and Aunt Vivian. I mean, we never get each other anything much, since I’m not really a kid anymore, but we have this policy of gift wrapping everything.” Stiles felt kind of lost, realizing what he was missing out on. “And then we would drink eggnog- I know it’s kind of cliche, but that stuff’s amazing. Aunt Vivian buys it by the crate. And eat pancakes shaped like snowmen.” He tried to sound cheerful, he really did, but he couldn’t help but have some regret in his voice. Aunt Vivian had done that ever since... cause that’s the way his mom made it for Christmas, and Stiles remembered crying the first time she had served him a plate, and he always got a bit nostalgic when eating them. It was like a mini ritual to remember his mom by.

And then Derek said something surprising. “We can do that.”

“What?” Stiles stared at him incredulously.

Derek shrugged and looked straight ahead. “I have pancake mix. I don’t have eggnog, but we can buy it tomorrow. It would only be a day late.”

“Really? You would really do that for me?” He knew his voice sounded surprised, but he couldn’t help it. He was surprised.

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure. It’ll be nice.”

Whoa, did Derek just show human kindness? Was he slowly overcoming his lifelong allergy? Was Stiles perhaps the best known cure for such a disease? He smiled. “Totally! We’re totally doing this. Even though you don’t have a Christmas tree, totally lame dude.”

Derek swept his hand across the forest. “Pick a tree, any tree.”

“You have to decorate it man! That’s the difference between a pine tree and a Christmas tree, the decorations! You have to put effort into it.”

Derek shot him a look. “Do you want pancakes or not?”

“Christmas trees are so overrated anyway. I mean, really, who does that? Chopping down a tree just so you can throw it out? Totally bad for the environment, society should get with the times and learn to go green!”

The smirk creeping into Derek’s lips made Stiles’ heart flutter, and he wasn’t really sure what to make of that.

+++

“Okay dude, since we’re doing my holiday traditions,” Stiles mumbled between the hunk of pancake in his mouth, “what’s some of yours?”

Derek quietly chewed his food and looked down at his plate.

“Come on!” Stiles pointed his fork menacingly. “Everyone has traditions, even if they haven’t done them since they were kids. There has to be something you used to do.”

The ever famous eyebrow raise. “You’re not going to leave me alone till I tell you, are you?”

“Not likely, no.”

“Fine,” the man conceded. “We use to watch movies when I was a kid.”

“Oh, great! The one thing we can do then,” Stiles said, semi-playfully sarcastic. Derek had promised to give him the wifi code after breakfast, but he was still a bit resentful the man had cut off access to the computer room for so long. “What kind of movies?”

Shrug. “The kids always picked, so it was cartoons mostly.”

“Excellent! No day better to relive your inner child like a good cartoon. I’m guessing I’m going to have to download something?” He hadn’t noticed anything family friendly during his previous DVD searches.

Derek seemed hesitant to answer, but eventually supplied, “I do own one movie that would work.”

Oh, Stiles had to hear this.

+++

“Are you sure you don’t want me to find it?”

“No, just bring the popcorn!” Stiles’ hands swept past the DVD cases, reading each spine.

Derek sulked to the couch and sat down, a giant bowl of popcorn in hand. “I don’t know why we need this, we just ate breakfast.”

“Popcorn is a must with movie watching! Otherwise you don’t get the full experience.” These were obvious rules that even Derek had to concede to. Now if he could just find the damn DVD... “Are you sure you have it?”

“It’s near the bottom of the shelf.”

“Oh, now you tell me!” Stiles got on his hands and knees and began this search anew, head dipping low.

The distinct sound of ripping fabric filled the room.

Stiles sat up on his knees and looked behind him, looking for all the world like a startled prairie dog. “What was that?”

“Heating ducts.” The man was the image of nonchalant, his right hand hanging over the sofa edge in a relaxed fashion. His left was buried in the popcorn, and look at that, who was the one who was just complaining about the buttery treat? Stiles smirked in triumph.

The answer gave Stiles pause, but why would Derek lie? It wasn’t like Stiles’ pants had split (he had checked). He went back to his hunt and was rewarded with the DVD, hidden behind the lined up cases. “Ah ha!”

There, the cover shining in the light, was the most epic movie Derek could have admitted to owning. Was there anything more freaking appropriate? Stiles thought not. Derek, for his part, scowled at the teen’s theatrics and shoved some popcorn in his mouth.

Stiles crawled over to the TV and popped open the case, letting out a curse as the DVD sailed downwards and rolling under the wooden stand. The space was narrow, and Stiles had to shove himself onto his chest, pawing blindly and praying there were no spiders in the dark space. His hips swayed back and forth in his concentration.

The ripping sound rang out again.

Stiles ignored it this time, and soon found his fingers clasping the slippery DVD. He slid it out and wiped it off a bit on his shirt, turning around to Derek. “Sorry, I think I got it a bit dusty.”

Derek was looking pointedly anywhere but at Stiles, and really? Was he all that annoyed? “It’s no big deal.” His hand was jammed in the popcorn again.

Stiles popped in the DVD and grabbed the remote. Crashing down on the couch (Derek scowled as he lifted the bowl to avoid popcorn spilling from the vibrations), he hit power and got cozy with the comforter he had brought out.

The title screen popped up, and the screen read out in big cursive letters the most appropriate movie ever for the situation. 

_Balto_

Stiles gave Derek a cocky grin, something that the man ignored with a carefully controlled blank look. It was cute, the guy with a bunch of wolf nature DVDs still holding onto his favorite childhood movie. (Okay, Derek hadn’t said it was his favorite, but why else would he have taken the time to buy it?) Stiles still had a huge collection of cartoons from when he was a kid, but that was different, he still lived at home. It was comforting to know that Derek still held on to at least some facet of his childhood.

As the movie began Stiles couldn’t help but think about the text messages on Derek's phone. He still felt guilty about reading them, but he had resolutely put that in one corner of his brain to be slowly forgotten. There was no way he was going to apologize, because that would involve admitting to the act, and he didn’t know if he would come out of that confession alive. Still, it made him wonder. What aspects of his old life was Derek rejecting? And why?

He pushed his thoughts aside and concentrated on the movie. He went to get some popcorn without looking, and felt his arm slide against the length of Derek’s. The contact sent sparks along his skin, and he quickly jerked the appendage back with a whispered, “Sorry!”

Derek turned to look at him, his eyes holding a mysterious intent that seemed to draw Stiles in. It was a moment that seemed suspended in time, like the man wanted to say something, something big. Something important. Instead he shoved the bowl towards Stiles with a grunt. “Don’t mention it.”

As Stiles munched on his popcorn he wondered what was more upsetting- the fact that he was sitting so close to Derek, or the fact that they weren’t closer?

+++

“Dude, I’m totally that little girl.” The credits were rolling, and Stiles was finally allowed to speak. Each time he had even opened his mouth Derek had shot him a glare.

“Her name’s Rosy,” Derek said offhandedly.

“Rosy, yeah, I’m totally Rosy. And Wolfy is Balto. He saved my life, didn’t matter he was part wolf, didn’t matter that society didn’t accept him. I accept him. His heart his bigger than his heritage! Damn this movie had such great morals. Every kid should own it, it teaches about acceptance and all that important stuff. So great, so powerful. If this wasn’t already made, I would totally sell my Wolfy story to Disney.”

“It’s Universal, not Disney.”

“Universal, yeah, I could have totally sold my story to Universal. Be raking in the cash man. Wolfy would be a star. We could go on talk shows and teach people about the importance of friendship. We could be icons!”

Derek deposited the popcorn bowl on Stiles’ lap and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay...” Stiles went to get something to drink while Derek walked into the hallway. He made a face out of the lack of options (water or milk, hot chocolate if he wasn’t feeling lazy, which he was), and after pouring himself a glass of milk (he could really use a red bull right about now, withdrawal was a bitch), he walked back to couch and promptly nearly dropped the glass.

Oh shit. Oh shit. There were claw marks on the side of the sofa. Of course, there was only one explanation as to how those had happened, something so dreadful, so terrifying, that Stiles heart sunk at the realization. 

Wolfy had clawed up Derek’s sofa- _dammit_.

He felt (a.) proud that his brother from another species would feel the need to avenge him for Derek’s douchiness and (b.) scared as hell that Derek was going to take one look at the damage and vow to skin Wolfy alive, something that Stiles was pretty sure he could not stop from happening, though he would probably die in his effort. All outcomes looked pretty grim.

When he heard the sound of Derek walking towards the living room, Stiles jumped into action and grabbed his comforter, draping it over the side and on his lap. It was a temporary fix at best, but at least he could come with a better solution in the meantime. Derek walked into the living room with a small white box, tied with black ribbon. He didn’t comment on Stiles’ change of position, and instead sat in the teen’s old spot.

“Merry Christmas,” Derek said as un-merrily as humanly possible, and shoved the box into Stiles’ hands.

Stiles sort of stared at it for awhile. Was this a trap? Was he going to open it to find a giant spider which would jump on his face? Though that did seem more like a practical joke than an evil murder attempt, and if he knew one thing it was that Derek was basically devoid of all humor but sarcasm. (Not that Stiles could really judge on that aspect, sarcasm was his only defense after all). Derek didn’t say anything, but he was doing that awkwardly-looking-away thing that happened when he was doing an act of kindness.

Curiosity getting to him, Stiles opened the box to reveal a necklace on top of blue tissue paper. It was a silver triple spiral with intricate, decidedly celtic designs engraved into it, with a black cord. It was kind of badass (okay, it was really badass, in that it was one of those rare exceptions of a necklace masculine enough to up your cool factor upon putting it on). Stiles didn’t know what to say.

“But I don’t have anything for you,” he managed to get out, still staring at the necklace wide eyed.

“That’s alright,” Derek said softly. “I don’t need anything.”

Stiles ran his finger across the design lightly, feeling the engraving. He felt that the moment would be ruined if he protested anymore. “What is it?” Besides the coolest thing anyone had gotten him ever, besides maybe his jeep.

“It’s a triskelion. In Celtic traditions it represented three things, each a part of the other. Mother, daughter, and granddaughter. Son, Spirit, and the Holy Ghost.”

“Alpha, beta, omega,” Stiles whispered, remembering the nature video. He didn’t know why he said it, it just felt right. Threes. Wasn’t there a power in three?

Derek started a bit. “Well, yeah.”

Stiles hadn’t taken it out of the box yet. “Why did you have it all gift wrapped already? Sorry, but you don’t seem the type to keep spare ribbons lying around.”

Derek looked away, his hazel eyes hesitant. “My sister gave it to me,” he said quietly. If there was an emotion in the words, the man kept it well hidden.

“Wait, your sister?” The taste of bile rose in Stiles’ throat at the thought. The guilt of last night came crushingly, and suddenly he was paranoid that he was going to give away the fact he already knew about her. He babbled, “Wow, some brother you are, giving it away to someone you just met!” His laugh sounded hollow. “Boy, she’s going to be pissed at you when she finds out. Are you sure you want to go there?”

“I don’t wear it anyway. She’ll be glad it’s being put to good use.” Derek moved closer, his knee was pressing into Stiles' thigh lightly. The teen was hyper aware of the contact. The man reached out to Stiles, who flinched in surprise. After a pause Derek reached into the box and pulled out the necklace, slowly unfurling the cord, the length easily allowing him to slip it onto Stiles' neck. He moved back afterwards to his original distance.

Stiles smiled, and it was only half false. Sure, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, but why had Derek given him the necklace? It seemed to hold a lot of sentimental value. It wasn’t a cheap sweater you threw in the closet and re-gifted. What memory belonged to it? And what did it mean that Derek was giving it to him?

“Hey.” Stiles looked up brightly and pointed to the medallion. “Me, you, and Wolfy. Three things, right?” Three exiles, in the middle of snowy nowhere.

Derek didn’t respond, but instead leaned forward and traced the spirals with his fingertip. His painfully handsome face was painfully close, the warmth of his breath falling on Stiles’ neck. The teen felt his pulse kick up a few paces.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “You, me, and Wolfy.” His voice was bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next we'll get to see the boys going into town, and Stiles will get some important supplies along with information on Derek ^^
> 
> Inspiration about the necklaces came from the shop [here](http://www.etsy.com/shop/Tishaia?ref=pr_shop_more) and I found some very cute but a lot more feminine triskelions [here](http://www.etsy.com/shop/JasGlassArt) that I personally bought and recommend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Okay, so it should make sense that Stiles would be upset by this, but the weird thing was he wasn’t. He should be mad that he was stuck in a cabin, in the middle of a freaking forest, with no one for company but a hermit (with model looks, maybe, but still) and a wolf. But he wasn’t. No Xbox, no Scott, no Dad, and for some reason he felt relief. Like there was a knot in his stomach that was slowly loosening. What was up with that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, suggestions/comments/edits are always welcomed. In a chapter or so we'll be finally getting to some of those trigger warnings ^^ Don't expect the next update till the weekend, but I should finish quickly after that because I'll be on break!

“Okay, question,” Stiles said as he stripped off his mittens and put his hands over the car’s heater. “Since you obviously don’t need all this winter gear stuff, why do you have it?”

Derek returned the question with (surprise, surprise) silence. The car ride, thus far, had been in silence. And Stiles had really tried to keep that going, he realized that he grated on certain individuals’ (see: most individuals) nerves with his endless talking. Derek seemed especially susceptible to this annoyance.

“Come on, this isn’t even a hard one!” Stiles hands flew upwards, hitting the camaro’s roof lightly. What kind of hermit owned a camaro? First Derek is hot, now he’s rich? Where was the fairness in the world? “Don’t tell me that you actually killed the original owner and he happened to be the same size as you.” 

This was actually startling in how likely it could be true. Maybe Derek wasn’t even the man’s real name, maybe it was an alias. Maybe Stiles had been spending the past few days with a psycho murderer, who made some of the best snowman pancakes Stiles had eaten (besides his mom’s of course, no one made pancakes as good as his mom had), and who had fed him and sheltered him and saved his life... Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so likely.

Derek smirked. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then how bad can it be?”

It didn’t seem like it was going to be that easy, and Derek was silent a few (too long) moments. Stiles nearly went on another rant before the man answered, “When I went shopping for supplies when I first got here, I told a salesperson that I had just moved, and somehow she got me to buy it all.”

Stiles was stunned, shocked, flabbergasted. Well, flabbergasted kind of implied not being able to respond, so maybe that wasn’t quite true. “Whoa! Back the hll up! Are you meaning to tell me you’re actually a _gentleman_?”

“Stiles...” Derek all but growled his name, and whoa, maybe that shouldn’t have had the effect it did. (I.E. curl his toes and tingle his fingertips in a very pleasant way.)

Stiles plowed on, a bit embarrassed by his reaction. (Not that Derek knew he had been turned on, so it really shouldn’t have been embarrassing, but Stiles still knew, alright?) “I bet she was older too, right? Lil’ ol’ granny who was worried you would catch a cold. I can’t believe it, I’ve been living with you for all of what, three days? And never would I have imagined you were actually a gentleman. You can’t keep secrets from me Derek-”

It was at this point Derek said, in a conversational, off handed tone, “I can always pull the car around and go back home.”

“Whoa, I feel ya dude, I hate it when salespeople make me buy stuff I don’t want. It’s like, hey, I came here with a list, will you just let me do my thing? They can be so pushy sometimes!”

Derek sighed. “I’m glad at least threats work with you, even if they don’t shut you up.”

“You can always try other ways to shut me up.” 

Stiles immediately went quiet. That sounded way too close to flirting for two dudes hanging out in a car. Way, way too close.

Derek smirked. “I think I just found one.”

+++

The town was small, with a handful of shops and a quaint history. At least this is what Stiles’ presumed, because Derek hadn’t said much on the topic besides the name. As soon as the car was parked in front of the mechanics Stiles sprang out of the door. The ride had been awkward after he had (accidentally, totally not on purpose, it was reflex more than anything) somewhat flirted with Derek, and the man had (thankfully) turned on the radio afterwards to diffuse the tension, which had kind of worked but not really.

Stiles had gotten away with just putting on a light jacket, and Derek hadn’t said anything about it. No point in getting all geared up when they were just going into a heated room, right? They walked into the mechanics office, Stiles trailing behind.

“Hey Hale,” the mechanic greeted, a middle aged man with a sturdy build. “Is that the Stilinski kid you were talking about?”

Stiles made a noise of protest. He was _sixteen_ , practically an adult. How dare he be referred to as a kid? The dignity! Hey wait, Derek’s last name was Hale?

“Yeah.”

It at least was comforting to know that Derek was just as articulate with others as he was with Stiles.

After a round of hand shaking and introductions, Greg (the mechanic) explained the situation with the light of Stiles’ life. (Okay, the jeep would have to share that title with Wolfy, but one of the lights of Stiles’ life.) The news wasn’t good. 

“The engine’s damaged, and it’s going to take me a few more days to get all the parts in.”

Okay, so it should make sense that Stiles would be upset by this, but the weird thing was he wasn’t. He should be mad that he was stuck in a cabin, in the middle of a freaking forest, with no one for company but a hermit (with model looks, maybe, but still) and a wolf. But he wasn’t. No Xbox, no Scott, no Dad, and for some reason he felt relief. Like there was a knot in his stomach that was slowly loosening. What was up with that?

He glanced at Derek to crack a joke about the situation, but it stuck in his throat with the look of fury the man showed. Not just slightly pissed, not even really annoyed, Derek looked furious, furrowed brows, nasty grimace, he might as well be snarling.

And that was when Stiles heart plummeted straight into the icy depths of his stomach; he could almost hear it clink against the ice. There was absolutely no way he could get around it. Stiles Stilinski, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, was seriously crushing on Derek Hale. This brutish, stoic, barely says two sentences next to each other guy, and it was more than just a physical attraction. It was full blown puppy love, disgusting in its intensity and nonsense reasoning. Who cared if Derek had saved him some burgers after they fought? Or the way that he had let Wolfy stay, though really, what sensible home owner would let a wild animal in their house? Or how he had given Stiles that necklace, the silver triple spirals snug against his chest beneath the jacket...

Okay, so maybe Stiles had a lot of reasons to like Derek. Big deal, not that important of a revelation, because it didn’t even matter. Derek obviously didn’t like him. Why else would he be so angry at the fact that Stiles had to stay longer? He was obviously just an annoying brat who the man couldn’t be more eager to get rid of.

Stiles went through the motions of giving his credit card information and signing a bunch of papers. God, he felt stupid. How could he have let this happen? Wasn’t Lydia Martin high enough of a goal he could never reach? Why would he, for even a minute, ever get his hopes up that Derek would like him back?

And if he had had any hope before... Stiles glanced at Derek, seated with crossed arms, face shifted to its normal sour countenance. Yeah, obviously the guy hated his guts. Why had Derek even been nice at all? What were the pancakes about? Or the movie? Why even give Stiles any false hope? And he would be angry about it, really, but he knew what it was that made Derek do all those things. Pity. Stiles was pitiful.

“Hey, we’re done now.” He stood awkwardly before the (sadly) object of his affection, now standing, and it was easy to avoid eye contact because the man was already doing just that.

“I have to go to the store.” It was the first thing Derek had said since they got the news, and it was emotionless, hollow. Like it was so hard to keep out the anger that Derek couldn’t afford to express any emotion at all.

“Uh, okay.” Stiles rubbed the back of his head. “Do you mind if I go and check out some of the shops?” It wasn’t just that it was awkward at the moment, even though it was. Or that Derek probably needed some time alone, which the man did need, obviously. “I promised Wolfy last night I would get him a Christmas gift.”

A calloused hand was brought forward, palm up. “Give me your phone so I can put in my number.”

Stiles fumbled for his phone and brought up his contacts list before handing it over. It was quickly punched in and Stiles sent a quick text to confirm. Derek glanced at his phone but didn’t even bother adding the number to his contacts, which Stiles understood. Did it really matter, when he was going to leave in a few days? Not like they were going to talk afterwards.

“Don’t get lost.” Derek was out the door before Stiles could respond.

+++

Okay, he really shouldn’t do it. Really, really shouldn’t do it. Why did the town even have one? Really? Beacon Hills- wait, did they have a sex shop? Stiles felt like he would know if they did. No way that wouldn’t get around school. Not that he could even go in if there was one, what with his reputation as the Sheriff’s son. But here? Here he was a no one, he probably would never even come to this town again. Now or never, right?

He still kept glancing around him as he walked in, as if someone was going to start ranting about how his actions were going to land him straight in hell. He would have kindly told them, too late, he already was there, current administer Derek Hale. Hale... He couldn’t believe that he had lived with the guy for so many days without knowing his last name. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

The store was pretty much what he expected, a more risque version of Spencers. Dirty bachelor and bachelorette games, boxes with colorful vibrators, a sign leading to the back where they kept the porn. Yup, nothing to be nervous about (not that Stiles even was nervous, nope, completely normal over 18 customer right here). There was no one else in the shop besides the clerk, a punkish girl with bright pink hair and a plethora of piercings, probably in her 20s. 

She waved at him. “Hey sweetie, anything in particular you were looking for?”

“Uh, no?” He tried to look confident and leaned against a display, only to have the boxes of condoms topple over. He quickly went to pick them up and haphazardly put them back in place, only to have them slide off again.

The woman laughed. “Nah, leave it. I’ll fix it later.” She gave him a concerned smile and a questioning brow. “First time shopper I’m guessing?”

Stiles chuckled nervously. “That obvious?”

“Eh, usually our clientele is a bit older. Dirty old men in trenchcoats, middle aged woman with scarves wrapped around their faces. The whole two bits.” Her pierced smile was infectious. “The curious teen, every once in awhile. Those are my favorites.”

He found himself gravitating towards her, drawn in by the first semi-normal conversation he had in days. And with a sex shop worker, that was where he was at right now. “Really? Those must be annoying.”

“Nah, I think it’s kinda cute.” She gave him a wink. “We’re all a little curious at that age, right? Sex is a natural thing, I don’t know why there’s so much stigma about it.” She leaned forward, and Stiles found himself leaning towards her too. “This place almost never got off the ground. My Aunt had to fight tooth and nail to set up shop. And yet we probably bring in the most outside business than any other shop in town. What does that tell you?”

“Yeah, people can be pretty narrow minded about that sort of thing.” Introduce yourself, idiot! “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

She gave him an approving look. “I’m Stacy. Here, we have a bit of a promotion going on right now.” She pointed to one of those cage devices they used during bingo, a bunch of colorful plastic Easter eggs inside of it. “You rotate that thing, I pull out an egg, and you see if you get a prize. Only if you buy something though.”

“Oh well, I actually- I didn’t really think of buying anything, I’m only in town coz my car’s being fixed, just wanted to check out-”

“Hey, it’s Christmas isn’t it? Why not give someone a gift they really won’t forget.” Her smile was dangerous now. “Or even something for yourself? Nothing’s wrong with a little self pleasure, trust me. I’m a frequent customer.” She shot him a wink.

Was she flirting? Was this flirting? Should he flirt back? Better not, maybe this was just how she got sales. Maybe it was the norm in sex shops, and if you flirted back you were kind of a pervert. Besides, it’s not like he would even know how to.

“I, uh, actually, I was looking for something for my dog- holy shit though, not like that.” He flung out his hands. “I mean, I don’t have much money in my wallet and I didn’t want to use my credit card, I just had to pay for my car to be fixed and my dad would- I mean, I can’t really use the credit card here, he might- not that I’m-”

“I get it, I get it!” It was obvious she was trying hard not to laugh. “I actually think I have just the thing for you. One sec.”

Stiles waited while she went to the back, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his face flushed. Any worse first impressions possible? He thought not.

Stacy came back holding a black leather dog collar. “I don’t know what size your dog is, but these are pretty nice quality.”

“Uh...”

“Oh, right!” She giggled. “Weird, right? My Aunt was going to try sell some light bondage gear, but we haven’t put up the display yet. These are for dogs though. They even have a place for the tag, see?”

“Oh, okay. Wolfy’s pretty big, I think this would fit him actually.” He felt like he kind of owed it to the cashier girl, after getting her to go to the back and everything. (It definitely wasn’t because he was curious about the giveaway thing. Nope.) “How much is it?”

“For you? And this is some high quality stuff. But, for you, since we haven’t actually set it up yet, I’d say... 20 bucks. I’ll even gift wrap it for you.”

They were some pretty nice collars, and the colorful eggs taunted him with the chance to score something good (hopefully without having to show an ID). “Sure, why not?” He yanked a 20 out of his pocket and handed it to her, declining a receipt. No need for evidence.

She put the collar in a white box and started wrapping the gift in some green (thankfully normal) wrapping paper, asking while she did so, “So, car troubles?”

“Oh, yeah. I hit a tree on the road a few days back.” 

Stacy flinched in empathy. “Ouch.”

He grinned sheepishly. “It sounds a lot more badass than what happened. I just swerved to miss a squirrel and lost control. Didn’t get hurt or anything.”

“Where have you been staying the past couple of days? I heard your car just got towed in yesterday.” She smiled at his questioning look. “My Aunt’s dating the mechanic.”

“Oh, well, I’ve been staying with Derek Hale for the past-”

“What? Really? Derek Hale? How did you land that? Do you know the guy?”

“Uh, no, we actually just met.” Why did she know Derek? “I kind of was walking around the forest and I, well I guess you could say I almost froze to death, really it’s not all that dramatic as it sounds-”

She put up a hand. “Lemme get this straight. Derek Hale saved your life, let you stay with him, and you don’t even know the guy?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.” What was the big deal?

“That’s a huge deal! He came into town, like, almost a year ago now? And no one knew who he was or anything about him. He bought an old hunting lodge and only comes into town for supplies. I doubt we would even know his name if he the shop keepers didn’t see his credit card. Not that I’m one of those lucky few.” She rolled her eye with a mocking smile. “The girls are absolutely wild about him, I’m sure they would have camped out in front of his house if they knew where it was. You don’t know how lucky you are, getting the chance to spend days alone with the town’s mysterious, handsome stranger.” She wiggled her eyebrows in emphasis.

She sounded sarcastic, but Stiles wasn’t sure. “What do you think of him?”

Stacy laughed and handed him the gift, topped with a red bow. “Well, I don’t exactly play for that team, but even I have to admit he’s kind of gorgeous. Mysterious though? More of a loner. No one really knows why he’s here, but if he’s being social it’s sure not in this town. Doesn’t ever stop by for a beer or a chat, no one can really call him an acquaintance, much less a friend. Makes you wonder what he does in that cabin.” She leaned her head on her hand.

“Yeah, I don’t really know either. He doesn’t talk much.” And what little he did know? Well, it just lent itself to the mystery which was the man.

“Not surprising. Still, if you get any dirt, tell me okay? Dirt on Derek Hale, I’ll have social currency to last me here for months. But you want a chance at a prize, right?” She started cranking the cage. “I’ll even let you pick it out.”

He did so and picked a yellow egg, cracking it open to a small slip of paper that stated Beginner’s Pack. “What does that mean?”

“Ha! Just what you need, couldn’t have picked a better prize.” Stacy grabbed two rolled up paper bags from behind the counter. One had the symbols ♂ and ♀ on it, while the other had two ♂. “So, which one will it be?”

Stiles got what she was asking, and only hesitated a moment before answering, “Both?”

She clucked her tongue and shook a finger. “My, my, you only get one. I suppose you have to pick the one you feel will be most pertinent in the future, hmm?”

Stiles bit his lip. It wasn’t like either of them really seemed to be useful in his immediate future. 16 years and counting, and his most sexual experience was that awkward middle school dance where he had kissed Laila and almost ripped his lip on her braces. Really, it all ran down to the fact of which one he would be more embarrassed buying, should the occasion somehow magically occur? That was a fairly easy choice.

With a quick glance up at his obviously-not-judging cashier, he grabbed the one with two large, blue ♂ symbols.

Stacy couldn’t stop grinning. “Any news of Derek Hale you can give me, any at all. Don’t forget.”

+++

“I think you should stay in town until your car is fixed.” Derek kept his eyes on the road, not even bothering to glance at Stiles’ drained face, wide eyes, mouth open in protest.

“Have I been bugging you?” Stiles bit his lip. Wolfy’s gift and the ‘beginner's pack’ were tucked safely in his backpack in the back seat. “I can stop whatever is annoying you. Am I talking too much? I have Internet now, I can just camp out in the guest room-”

“That’s not it.” Derek did look at him now, but only for a second, only to show how serious he was. “I just need to be alone. It’s not you in particular, it’s just another person around. It’s not why I came up here.”

Stiles wanted to call bullshit, that it was him, that Derek hated his guts. Why wasn’t he jumping at this opportunity to leave then? Did he really want to suffer in the awful limbo of an unrequited crush? Hadn’t he suffered enough of that at the hands of Lydia? And this was even more intense, maybe because Derek wasn’t a far off figure to idolize, but real and known. Stiles felt like he knew the man, perhaps more than anyone else. Which was a stupid, selfish thought, but he couldn't help feeling that way.

“I need my stuff.”

“We’ll stop by the house and grab it all. I can even help pay for a hotel room, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Wolfy. I have to get Wolfy.” This wasn’t even a diversion tactic. There was no way Stiles was going to leave without him.

Derek sighed in that way that grown ups do when kids ask them for something impossible. “Look, I’ve been meaning to talk about that. I know we’ve had this discussion before, but you have to know that he’s happier out here, in the wild.”

“Some could argue that fact.” Stiles crossed his arms. He could not believe they were having this conversation again. Not even his embarrassment could get in the way of him getting pissed off about Derek bringing it up.

Derek waved a hand. “Hear me out. I promise I’ll look after him. I’ll make sure he’s safe, I’ll let him come inside when it’s cold. And he can stay here, where he’s happy.”

“He’d be happy in Beacon Hills.” Stiles was glaring out the window now. “We have plenty of forests for him to run around in.”

“And plenty of people to get scared and call in hunters,” Derek was quick to point out. He was still calm, but there was gruff desperation now, as if he was pulling out his last card. “It’s not safe for him there.”

Stiles still refused to take his eyes off the window. “It’ll be fine it I introduce him to everyone. If my dad’s okay with him, so will everyone else. No one would call hunters on the Sheriff’s dog.”

Derek tightened his grip on the wheel. “We’re not having this discussion anymore.”

“He’s coming with me, and you can’t make me leave until he comes back! And I’ll call a taxi or something if you won’t drive us. I’m sure I can get him-”

A growl vibrated through the car, low and feral. Stiles panicked at first, snapping his head to look, before realizing it had been Derek. Whoa, what a set of vocal cords.

“Stop arguing with me.” Derek’s voice was hot tar.

Stiles internally shuddered a bit, but there was no way he was letting this go. Why did Derek even care? “Stop trying to get in my way-”

The car swerved into the curb, forcing Stiles to fall back onto the side of the car. Derek was suddenly there, grabbing Stiles’ collar, forcing the back of his head against the window. The man’s face was close, and Stiles could see every detail of barred teeth, flaring nostrils, eyes that seemed to flash in the light.

“He’s not going,” Derek said, slow and rough. “And that’s final.”

Stiles stared at the man’s tightly clenched lips and licked his own, his shoulders raised and chin tucked. What the fuck was going on? “Calm down dude! I’m just saying-”

Derek growled again, and yeah, that was definitely not a party skill. The guy sounded like Wolfy for Christ's sakes. “Stop.”

“What, talking?” Stiles knew he sounded high pitched now, could feel the blood pumping in and out of his quickly beating heart, and not just from fear. A heady arousal was beginning to warm certain extremities, and fuck, not the right time, not the right time. “Because you’re the one who’s-”

Derek tightened his grip on Stiles’ collar, leaning even closer. His breath was hot against the teen’s face. He looked pained, as if he was trying to control an urge. When the hell had the guy gotten so violent? “Stop resisting.”

“What do you want me to do?” Stiles couldn’t help but argue. “Roll over and submit?”

“Yes.”

Stiles gaped at the clipped response. Who the hell said yes to that? “Well too bad. I’ll spend all night looking for Wolfy if I have to, and you know that I-”

“Fine.” Derek released him and moved back to his seat, placing his hands on the wheel. The car was still running. “One night. In the morning you have to wake up early and try to get Wolfy to come back in the house after letting him out.” He still sounded annoyed at the name. “If he runs off, he runs off. You can’t go after him. We drive you back to town, you get a hotel, and that’s the end of it.”

“Fine.” Stiles could live with that. If he was the one to let Wolfy out (Derek probably scared him off every morning anyway) he was sure that he could convince the wolf to come back inside. He had even dropped by a pet store and gotten a leash. And then the three of them (Derek probably grumbling all the way) would walk to the shack where the car was kept, drive into town, and find a hotel where they allowed pets. Easy.

At least, Stiles hoped it would be. Had to be. Because there was no way he was going to leave Wolfy out here all by himself, with no one to be with, like Derek. Like... Derek. 

Oh shit. 

Stiles glanced at the man, now moodily staring back at the road. Maybe Derek didn’t want Wolfy to leave because he was lonely. Maybe they had more of a bond than he had let on, and that’s why Wolfy came into the house so easily.

But that didn’t matter, Stiles decided grumpily. Derek wanted to be alone. He could buy a new dog, a husky or something, if he was really that lonely. But still, Stiles couldn’t help but feel that if he had the choice, if Derek was as easy to placate as Wolfy had been, Stiles would be taking the man home too. No one deserved to be alone.

+++

Wolfy did not like his Christmas present.

“Come on man, do you know the kind of embarrassment I had to go through to get this!” Stiles pushed the collar towards the animal who was currently baring his teeth. “If you’re going to be my dog you need a collar, and this one cost 20 bucks! At least try it on?”

Wolfy did not look pleased when Stiles made him try it on. At least he was easy to nickname when he got grumpy- sourwolf had a nice ring to it. Maybe Stiles could start taking daily pictures and make a meme. The wolf shook his neck uncomfortably.

“I know dude, I know, it sucks. But hey, just leave it on tonight to get use to it, and then tomorrow I’ll take it off in the car. No big deal, okay?” He didn’t want to say that he was worried that Wolfy wouldn’t let Stiles put it on him in the morning, and then there would be no leash, thus no leading, and perhaps the wolf would run off before they Derek woke up. A precaution, that’s all. Not paranoia or anything, just to make sure. Just to be safe.

Wolfy was still grumpy when they got into bed, but laid his head on Stiles’ chest in a sign of semi-forgiveness. 

Stiles pet his wolf’s head. “You’ll love it in Beacon Hills. It’s always nice and warm, and there’s tons of forest right outside town. I’ll even start hiking, maybe I’ll finally gain some muscle.”

Wolfy snorted.

“Hey big guy, we can’t all be Derek Hales in life.” Stiles bit his lip. "I hope you’re not going to miss him. I don’t know if you two were close but... I don’t know. I know he needs you, but I need you more. I hope he gets that.”

Wolfy raised his head and stared with a (well, maybe Stiles was just delusional) concerned look.

“Yeah, well, I don’t mean to sound sad or anything. I’m glad we’re finally leaving. And I know you’re going to come with me, no matter what he says, but... Okay, don’t tell anyone, but...” 

Stiles closed his eyes. It was hard to get out, even to a pet. A cold nose pressed against his own, and he opened them to a whining Wolfy. He smiled and stroked the wolf’s neck.

“I like him, okay? That’s the stone cold truth, no matter how desperate it sounds. And he doesn’t like me- scratch that, he _hates_ me. And now I’m going to leave and, I dunno, it feels like a waste of fate somehow. Like we were meant to be together, but aren’t going to be.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s hopeful thinking... Stupid, right?”

Wolfy licked his cheek, as if to say that it wasn’t stupid at all.

“Thanks man. At least you like me.” Stiles gave the wolf a soft hug before wiping off his cheek and moving to turn off the lights. “Good night.”

It was a few minutes before Stiles remembered he had to wake up early tomorrow. He grabbed his phone off the end table and turned the alarm on vibrate, putting it under his pillow. He didn’t want to freak Wolfy, now sound asleep, with the noise.

Stiles expected a lot of things to happen tomorrow. An annoyingly early wake up, the struggle to get Wolfy to get in a car, the awkward ride into town. What he didn’t expect was to wake up to a man in his bed, especially the man Derek Hale.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Wolfy didn’t leave the house you moron!”_  
>     
>  _“What?” It took a moment, but as soon as it clicked Stiles felt sick. He struggled harder. “Were you keeping him locked up in the basement? You sick bastard- I don’t care how crazy they are, I’m calling PETA on your ass when-”_

Stiles woke up groggy, his pillow vibrating beneath him. The first thing he noticed, mind still hazy, was a large hand settled on his stomach, attached to an arm draped across his torso.

_My, what big hands you have.  
The better to hold you with, my dear._

Pressed against his back was a muscular torso, radiating a sleepy warmth. The bed was slightly dipped from the weight, creating an incline that forced Stiles to press into the body behind him.

_My, what big pecs you have.  
The better to warm you with, my dear._

A stiff erection was pressed against his ass.

_My, what a big dick you have.  
The better to spoon you with, my dear._

Wait, what?

And it was at that thought that Stiles sat up in panic and looked behind him to see (obviously the logical conclusion as to who was in the bed, but that didn’t mean it made any fucking sense) Derek Hale.

This revelation caused the following: Stiles screamed (it was a manly scream, no, really), tried to get out of bed, and Derek’s grip on his waist became tighter. (Stiles would have been flattered if the whole situation wasn’t so fucking creepy.) The man then proceeded to wake up, look startled, and then brought his arm back from Stiles as if he had been burned. Quickly proceeded by launching out of bed. Naked.

Wh- Why was Derek naked in bed with him? What was going on. And- holy shit, was that Wolfy’s collar? Was this a wet dream? Was this a very awkward, not sexy at all wet dream? Was he going to wake up in a second to creamed pants?

“Don’t freak out,” Derek unreasonably demanded. The man looked (obviously) hot as hell, which made the situation a smidgen better (not enough to negate the freaking out factor though). Dude was (naturally) ripped. He had a broad chest, abs that could cut steel, and beneath that a trail of dark hair that led to... 

Wow, okay, Stiles was not going to check out the guy’s dick here. (Okay, he couldn’t help it, he looked, _damn_.) “I think freaking out is the appropriate response here! You’re in my bed, _naked_. And you’re wearing- oh god, why the fuck are you wearing my dog’s collar?”

“I can explain.”

Stiles flailed his entire body, because hands couldn’t express his emotions right now. “Really? Because I would love to hear your explanation, I really would. I would love to hear of the events that transpired that lead you ending up naked in my bed.”

Derek paused for a long time, looking for all the world like he was thinking of an excuse. “I sleepwalk.”

“You sleepwalk?” Stiles deadpanned. Of excuses the man could come up with, this was pretty pathetic. Or at least unoriginal.

Derek looked defensive. “Yes.”

Stiles gestured to the door, which was closed. “So you sleep walked into my room...”

“Yes.”

Stiles gestured to his own neck. “And you sleep-took-off-Wolfy’s-collar and sleep-put-it-on....”

Derek hesitated before answering with a growly, “Yes.”

Stiles gestured to the mussed bed. “And then sleep-slept-in-my-bed.”

“Look, It’s a... strange condition.”

Stiles shook his head. “Yeah, totally not buying this. What.” He looked wildly about the room. “Where is Wolfy? What did you do with my dog?!”

Derek rolled his eyes, as if to say, _of all the things to ask_. “He must have got out when I came in. Calm down.”

“Look, if this was some sort of trick to get me to want to leave, congratulations, you have succeeded.” Yeah, puppy love did not negate the fact that Stiles was seriously creeped out right now, and really fucking embarrassed. “Let’s just go into town, I can get my own hotel, and we can never meet again and forget all this happened.”

“We can’t.”

“What? What do you mean we can’t?! Just yesterday you were freaking out-”

Derek pointed to the window, the blinds closed shut. “There’s a storm.”

Stiles went up and angrily pulled up blinds. The view was a solid white as snow whipped past. He turned his neck and asked, “How did you know that?”

Derek hesitated before answering, “I could hear it.”

“Okay, fine.” Stiles rubbed the back of his head with frantic motions. “Me and Wolfy will stay here, and when the storm stops you take us into town.”

Derek walked up to the window and looked out. “It looks pretty strong.”

“Oh god, can you put some clothes on?” It was hard not to look at- anywhere on Derek’s body, cause every part seen was bringing up a combination of jealousy and some stupid, stupid lust. Hey, he was only sixteen, could he really be blamed?

Derek glared (cause obviously being naked was the most normal thing ever, obviously) but went to the dresser to do just that. “It might last all day. We’ll leave as soon as it lets up, but don’t count on that happening soon.” Boxer-briefs now snug on his hips (okay, not exactly negating the embarrassment or lust, but better), he shuffled his feet awkwardly (at least he had the decency to be embarrassed too). “I’m going to go take a shower. Make yourself some breakfast. I’ll stay in the office today, okay?”

At this point Stiles refused to look at the man, and instead looked broodily out the window. “Yeah, fine, okay.”

Derek gave a hesitant look to the bed, put his hand on his neck, and said, “Look, I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I wasn’t scared.” He wasn’t, he was just startled and weirded out. Derek didn’t really scare him, even after the man-handling in the car. They watched freaking _Balto_ together, for christ's sakes.

A shrug. “Disturbed you then. It really wasn’t intentional. I wouldn’t do something like that to make you leave. I knew you were going to go anyway.” Why did Derek sound bitter about that? Wasn’t it his idea in the first place? 

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles turned around from his position near the window, and was (somewhat) honest when he said, “I’m sorry I freaked out. It isn’t your fault, and it’s not like you molested me or anything. We’re both guys, right? No need to freak out.”

Derek nodded gruffly, muttering, “Right,” before walking out of the room.

Because why the hell else would Derek crawl into bed with him? The guy just didn’t strike Stiles as a pervert or anything. Maybe Stiles should be more willing to buy this sleepwalking story. It was, really, the most likely situation. If anyone knew the perils of morning wood it was him, and that particular phenomenon didn’t have much of anything to do with the... bed partner (the reason why he and Scott didn’t have sleepovers anymore). Besides, why would Derek want to do anything like that with Stiles? Perversion usually stemmed from some sort of physical attraction, and Stiles knew that wasn’t mutual.

+++

Stiles didn’t have a death wish. He really didn’t. It wasn’t like he thought freezing to death in the snow was a fun time, really. He had just wanted to find Wolfy. Okay, so maybe now he understood why Derek had been upset when he went outside that one time, but he wasn’t suppose to get out of sight of the cabin. He just wanted to walk around when he discovered that Wolfy must have gotten out. There was a blizzard, how could he not at least step outside and look?

But as he called and called and the wolf didn’t answer, and as he stepped just one more foot, okay, just a few more feet, the cabin was right there, he could still see the chimney- somehow he got lost. He tried to backtrack, he really did, but it was just no use. He just went in circles.

The worst part was how Derek was so right about it all. Only wearing sneakers and a hoodie, almost the exact same outfit he first got lost in. And this was an even worse storm. He started running, hoping that if he just went fast enough he would find the house sooner, but it only appeared to make him more lost. And he was getting cold, fast. Colder.

He felt the signs again, just like last time. Chattering teeth, numb fingers, and sleepy. So fucking sleepy. He ended up under a tree again- damn, this might even be the same tree, he didn’t know. It felt like the same tree.

“Wolfy!” His voice was hoarse now, but he tried to make it as loud as possible. It wasn’t just to find the animal anymore, Stiles knew he was going to freeze if he didn’t get help. Maybe Wolfy could lead him back to the cabin. There, of course, was someone else who could help... Not that anyone would be stupid enough to risk this blizzard on purpose, no matter what awkward calls to a father they would have to make. Still, he licked his lips, the spit seeming to freeze over the skin. After a moment more of hesitation he called, “Derek!”

He sat there and called out for both of them until his throat was raw. Soon they began to blur together, in name and mind. He imagined Wolfy with bushy eyebrows and a leather jacket. He could see Derek with furry ears and a long, black tail. Either one, anyone, please find him. Please. The last image he saw, seeming to appear out of the snow like a mirage, was Derek with Wolfy’s glowing blue eyes.

+++

Stiles woke up for the second time that day curled up next to Derek. There were differences of course. They were facing each other for one (or, well, Stiles was facing Derek’s chest). There was no awkward erection between them. There was also no bed beneath them, in fact, they were lying on a dirt floor. Derek’s hand was petting Stiles’ head with gentle strokes. The one similarity though, to both Stiles’ pleasure and displeasure, was that the man was naked.

“Why are we in a cave?” Stiles asked into Derek’s collarbone. He was wearing only a thin shirt and boxers, and could feel the warmth radiating from the man like a space heater through every contact of skin.

The hand stopped. “Storm’s too heavy for me to get us home quick enough. This happened to be nearby.” Derek sounded tired in that emotional way, like when you’re really stressed out about something and now that it's done you’re too exhausted to even enjoy the fact that it’s over.

“You found me.” Stiles sounded surprised because he was surprised. “How did you find me?”

Derek didn’t answer.

“It’s impossible. I was in the middle of the forest, and I couldn’t see the chimney anymore, and it was so freaking cold-”

It wasn’t weird that Derek shushed him, but it was weird in that it was a gentle shush. “Shh. You’re working yourself up. Calm down.”

“I almost froze to death and you found me. How?” Looking up revealed a tired man who was trying to give nothing away, whose hair was still damp from the shower. “The first time, sure, I’ll give you that. You stumbled upon me, yeah, lucky me, but still. How did you actually _find_ me?” 

A long pause, and then a tense, “Why did you leave the house?”

“Don’t answer my question with another question!”

Another long pause. “Was it because I was in your bed this morning? Did I really scare you that much?” And Derek actually sounded concerned, like that was even a possibility, like Stiles was trying to run away.

“What? No-no. Nothing like that. I was trying to find Wolfy-”

And at that Derek did that not-a-party-trick of growling, a thick and ferocious thing that made the hairs stand up on the back of Stiles neck. The man crushed Stiles to him. “ _What_?”

Stiles struggled to be let go, pushing against his captor’s chest. But Derek was having none of that, and Stiles was really too weak to put up much of a struggle. “I was trying to find my freaking pet you idiot, so he didn’t die in the snow!”

“Fuck, I can’t- of all the stupid reasons to leave!”

“Being scared of you is a good reason then? Oh, actually caring for another life, stupid me, but running away from a naked man, well that’s-”

“Wolfy didn’t leave the house, you moron!”

“What?” It took a moment, but as soon as it clicked Stiles felt sick. He struggled harder. “Were you keeping him locked up in the basement? You sick bastard- I don’t care how crazy they are, I’m calling PETA on your ass when-”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “I’m Wolfy, you fucking idiot!”

“...What?”

“When he saved your life, when he came into the house, when he slept in your bed,” Derek ranted, sounding angrier and angrier, “that was me! That was me doing those things, okay?”

Stiles snorted. What the hell was going on, how was this his life right now? This was getting to the point of ridiculous. “What, every time he licked my face?” he asked sarcastically.

And before Stiles had a chance to say anything else, make any accusation of drugs or stress or mountain madness, Derek was transforming. His bones stretched and compressed, his skin shifted over his muscles, black hair grew all over his body. It was so quick that Stiles almost missed it, could have almost blinked and thought he had just seen the best magic trick ever. Because there, right in front of him, was Wolfy.

“What...” Stiles sat up slowly, blinking heavily. He reached a hand out, touching the fur. It was real. This was real. Derek was Wolfy. And then, just as quick, Wolfy was Derek again.

The man wasted no time in grabbing Stiles up in his arms again. “Sorry,” he apologized, placing his chin on top of the boy’s head. “I have to get you warm before I try to take you home.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles muttered, still a bit shocked. Sure, it was awkward, but he wasn’t about to complain at his own personal furnace in the middle of a blizzard. The cave was still cold. “Um... Derek?”

“Yes?”

“Are you a werewolf?”

“Yes.”

“Okay...” Okay, Stiles could handle this, totally. He was going to lie right here, face once more pressed into Derek’s collarbone, and do just that. “Are you going to explain that anytime soon?”

“When we get home,” Derek promised, and he sounded exhausted but sincere.

“Promise?” Despite the moment, despite all that just happened, Stiles suddenly felt tired, like his eyelids were made of lead. It wasn’t the delirious tired of being trapped in the snow though. It was a good tired, a warm, comfortable tired.

“Promise,” the man said, voice unusually soft, lulling even. “Now go to sleep.”

And Stiles couldn’t help but do just that.

+++

It kind of felt like Stiles was in one of those cop movies, steepled fingers and serious expression and everything. Derek was seated across the dining room table from him, and he looked as sour as any of the perps usually portrayed in the shows. Even had the stubble and startling good looks.

“Okay, so,” Stiles started, sorting through what he wanted to ask. “You’re a werewolf.”

The glare was expected. “Yes. I thought we already covered that.”

They hadn’t really covered anything yet, nothing new once Stiles woke up inside the cabin. He supposed that Derek must have carried him back, naked. Which, given the man was a werewolf, was probably well within his capabilities. But Derek had promised answers, and if it’s one thing Stiles knew how to do, it was ask questions.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” It just hadn’t really sunk in yet, not fully. “Okay, so, you transform into a wolf, right?”

“Sometimes.”

 _Sometimes_ he says... 

“Well, what else do you become? Do you go full on horror movie monster or what?”

A shrug. “There’s a between I can shift into.”

“Can you shift into it now?” What would that look like, would it be more _Harry Potter_ or _Night of the Wolfman_?

Another glare, and a firm, “No.”

What a killjoy. “Okay.” Stiles bit his lip, because though this question was embarrassing, it was the one most on his mind. “Why did you pretend to be a wolf then?”

The silence that followed was heavier than usual, and Derek refused to meet Stiles eye. Which was alright by the teen, because he was pretty embarrassed for asking.

“Next question.”

“What! No, you didn’t say you would skip!

“And I also didn’t say I would answer them all.” Derek looked beyond resolute. “Next question.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Stiles sighed. “Well, what can you tell me then?”

Derek leaned forward and lifted his pointer finger. “One. I’m not a murderer, and I don’t hurt people.” He lifted the next finger. “Two. You’re not to tell anyone about this. Three,” yet another finger raised, “and this is an important one- when you leave here you are not to go looking for any others of my kind. You’re going to forget anything other than your normal human life, and be content with that.”

“What? You’re seriously asking me to just forget about everything, to try to not find out more stuff?” Did he even know who he was- “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Yes. A normal human, with a normal life.” Derek pointed directly to Stiles’ chest. “My world is dangerous. More than you can imagine. You’re going to leave it. Forget about it.”

It didn’t sound like a death threat, not by a long shot. It sounded like a warning.

“Okay... so,” Stiles began, hoping to at least get a few more questions in before he left, “full moon not an issue for you guys?”

Derek shifted, looking truly uncomfortable for the first time in the conversation. “It depends.”

“Wait...” Suddenly Stiles got a sneaking suspicion. “It isn’t the full moon soon, is it?”

“Tonight.”

“What?!” Flailed arms were the only way he could properly express his emotions right now. “Are you going to eat me? Is that why you’re in this mountain?”

The man’s (or more like werewolf’s) eyebrows were set in a way that said, _no, you idiot_. “Normally I have control over it, but this month is going to be... harder for me.”

Stiles circled his hands. “Any reason in particular?”

Silence.

“Come on! if I’m going to be fighting for my life I should at least should know the reason!”

“I’m going to be in the basement, with the door locked. So you won’t have to fight for anything.” Derek looked miffed that Stiles would even imply such a thing. His eyes shifted from side to side, as if trying to think of a way out of the line of questioning. In the end he ended up confessing, in a quiet, almost pained voice, “I’m going into... heat.”

“Werewolves do that?! Holy shit! No, wait.” Stiles put up his hands. “Okay, I watched that DVD. Male wolves don’t go into heat.”

“No,” Derek conceded, again doing that whole avoiding eye contact thing, “but they react to others in heat.”

“What the- are you telling me there’s a female wolf on this mountain in heat? Or a female werewolf?” Stiles had enough trouble handling ONE werewolf at the moment, thank you very much.

Derek shook his head. “Not them.” And here was what seemed like to be the longest pause ever, and it looked like it almost pained him to say the next word. “You.”

It took a few beats for Stiles to get what Derek was implying. “Me? I’m not in heat! I’m not even a wolf.”

“You’re attracted to me,” Derek said matter of fact (much to Stiles embarrassment), “and my wolf is reacting to that. You’re releasing pheromones that are making me want to... mount you.”

“I smell like... what? Mount me? Like...”

Derek leaned forward, and Stiles could see it now. That momentary shift from hazel to glowing blue. “If you let me out of the basement I’m going to fuck you, and I won’t be in the state to take your opinion on the matter in consideration.”

It took a moment for Stiles to remember how to breath. “Okay. Okay, basement good, getting out bad. Got it.”

+++

It was easier said than done. Waiting, that is. Locking Derek up during the evening, promising again and again that, yes, no matter what, yes he understood, he won’t let the man out- yes, he won’t forget! What did Derek take him for, a kid? It was easy. Wait for the sun to rise, unlock the door, drive into town and the whole ordeals done. Ironically, the storm was set to end that night.

So, in all good sense Stiles should just go to sleep. Or stay in his room and watch youtube videos. Or anything, just anything, but stand in the hall and listen next to the basement door, waiting for... something. Which is why, naturally, that’s exactly what he did. For two hours straight. (Okay, periodically he would sit down, or pace, but mostly it was standing.)

At first he had been confused as to how a stupid basement door was going to keep out a werewolf. They were suppose to be super strong, right? But Derek had assured him that he had reinforced it to withstand nearly anything. In ‘preparation,’ apparently.

Okay, so it was starting to kick in. The whole Derek being a werewolf thing. The whole Derek being _Wolfy_ thing. The dude technically licked his face. That was a lot to take in. And... how he felt about Wolfy, did that now transfer over to Derek? Was the man the wolf, or were they separate? Derek said his wolf wanted Stiles. Did the man? That was a hard thing to convince himself of.

And that was when Derek, who had been silent the entire night, began to speak through the door.

“Stiles,” he said, and his voice was impatient. It seemed to creep along Stiles’ skin. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.”

“Well thanks, that’s not creepy at all.” The bravado of the sentence may have been somewhat false, but the sarcasm? Completely authentic.

There was a pause before Derek spoke again, calmer this time. “I’m okay now. It was a false call. You can let me out.”

“Uh, how about no? The moon is still out dude.” 

What the hell was going on. This hadn’t been on the how-to pamphlet. Stiles gripped the key in his grasp tight. He hadn’t put it down since Derek had handed it to him. There was a long silence that made Stiles heart beat faster, and he wondered if Derek could hear it.

“Have you ever seen werewolf movies?” the man asked conversationally, startling Stiles into jumping a little. (Just a little.)

“...Yes,” he answered, cautious. What the hell was Derek getting at?

“Well, am I acting like that?” Derek asked, oddly patient. “Am I howling and trying to claw the door down?”

“...No.”

“I’m speaking to you, calmly, and I’m asking you to unlock the door for me.”

“You don’t sound normal though.”

“Stiles...” It was almost... sassy. Like a grownup having to deal with a little kid who just didn’t understand.

Oh, Stiles understood alright! Somewhat. Kind of. “You sound too polite or something. I don’t know. Weird.”

There was another pause, and when Derek responded he sounded impatient. Normal. Well, normal for Derek. “I was trying to calm you down. I didn’t want to freak you out.”

The boy let out a hollow laugh. “More than I already am?”

“Yeah.” There was a definite smirk in the man’s voice.

Stiles hesitated, but this was weird. This definitely wasn’t normal. Why should he be suspicious though? The way he had pictured it, Derek would be a slobbering mess of fury and hormones right now, not a con artist. “Are you really okay?”

“Look,” the man said, sounding all too reasonable, “I just thought that we could talk about this some more. I need you to understand everything that’s happening, that has happened, before you leave. It’s important.”

Stiles could feel his curiosity getting the better of him. “Okay... I mean, okay, sorry for being paranoid, you just sounded really freaked out earlier.” The key nearly fell out of his shaking hands as he went to put in the key. “Here, let me just-”

The door was shoved opened from the inside, cracking against the wall. There stood Derek with eyes like two blue flames. He stepped forward and Stiles took a step back out of pure instinct. The man followed the motions with his eyes, and the smile he gave was over-sharp.

_My, what big teeth you have.  
The better to eat you with my dear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've found a beta, so updates may be (a tad) slower, but she's been very reliable and quick so far! Big props to [toms-avenger](http://toms-avenger.tumblr.com/) for editing my sloppy self =P


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stiles closed his eyes and knew that Derek could hear his heartbeat. Would know if he lied. He forced his chin upwards, offering his neck like a sacrifice, like a promise. The black of the necklace cord contrasted the white skin, and the metal spirals gleamed in the hallway light. “I want you.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Derek smiled as he bit down upon the teen’s neck once more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONCE AGAIN, warning! Dub-con and underage! This is where I earn my explicit rating!

The whole Derek taking a step forward and Stiles taking a step back lasted all of three feet before the wall came up to meet the teen’s back. He braced his hands on it, readying himself to launch quickly to the side and ninja his way to the basement. If he could get in and close the door, somehow lock it from the inside... The key was cutting into his palm as he grasped it tight.

But suddenly Derek was tired of the slowly creeping game, and in a blink he was there, pressed up against Stiles, his body framing the teen’s in a sudden rush of too hot. Too close. He grabbed sharp hips and leaned forward, slowly again, tantalizingly, putting his face to Stiles' neck and swiped a warm stroke of tongue along the jugular there, eliciting a shiver.

Before even an attempt of protestation could be made, Derek snatched Stiles' mouth in a kiss. Not chaste or hesitant or anything that a first kiss should be, no. It was raw. Too much (not enough) tongue, too much (not enough) teeth, Stiles felt himself reacting, pressing forward, giving as much as he got. It was okay that the boy had no finesse because finesse wasn’t required for such a filthy exchange of saliva. Pinpricks of sharp pain shot across his hips as the man’s claws (holy shit, claws, those were claws) pinched into his skin.

Stiles jerked his head back and pushed at Derek’s chest. “Trigger warning, trigger warning! This is definitely non-con dude!”

Derek didn’t move an inch, instead focusing his attention on yanking Stiles’ shirt down so he could lick at the boy’s collar bone, muttering between swipes, “You want it. I can smell it on you. You want me to fuck you.” The metal of Stiles’ necklace was cold against his heated chest. His mouth went dry, and he found himself grabbing onto the Derek’s hair. Not to pull away, but to ground himself as he shivered beneath the man’s attention, his pale fingers entangled in the short black hairs. It took him awhile to concentrate enough to say, “Okay, dub-con, but emphasis on the dub! Dubious consent, you know what that means? That still means _no_!” He hoped he sounded a lot surer than he felt.

Ignoring the comment, Derek began to rub against Stiles’ growing erection with one hand. Even though the thick fabric of his jeans, Stiles couldn’t help but react with a jerk of his hips. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good Stiles. Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

“No,” Stiles ground out between heavy breaths.

Derek smirked. “Did you know that werewolves can tell when you’re lying? I can hear it now, in your heartbeat. You’re a teenage boy. Of course you want to feel good.”

“No! I mean- I don’t-”

“Are you a virgin?” The question sounded fakely curious, as if it was only polite to ask.

Stiles didn’t answer, but could feel his face growing warm. He looked to the side, biting his lip.

“Of course you are,” Derek freaking _purred_. “You got hard from a kiss. Was that your first kiss too?” He sounded so cocky, so sure about it.

Stiles couldn’t even muster up the bravado for a victory grin when he answered (very truthful, thank you very much weird werewolf powers), “No.”

For the first time since he had left the basement, Derek frowned. He grabbed Stiles chin and forced eye contact, caramel eyes meeting glowing blue. “You’re telling the truth... Who was it?”

Stiles glared. “I don’t have to tell you any-”

The wall dented as Derek slammed his fist into it. “Who was it?” His voice was razor sharp.

“It was in middle school, okay?” Stiles babbled, and for the first time he felt scared with Derek. Truly, honestly scared. “It was just an awkward kiss at a school dance, she doesn’t even go to my school anymore-”

Derek surged forward and bit Stiles’ bottom lip, not hard enough to bruise but enough that the boy winced, Derek licking at the spot afterwards. This was too much. Too much new, too much everything. Stiles didn’t want this (no matter how much he did want this). He didn’t like being afraid of Derek. His dick apparently did not agree on that, and was quite content with Derek pulling down Stiles’ zipper and pawing his way in. The teen whimpered at the feeling of callused hands on intimate flesh.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Derek said, sickeningly sweet. His free hand went to cup Stiles neck, to apply a light pressure with his thumb so that the boy stretched it. The man bit down, slowly, softly into the line of pale flesh offered. Stiles knew what this was. Submission. Derek was forcing Stiles to submit.

Oh hell no. 

“Get off me!” Stiles pushed once more, using the wall as leverage, but to no avail. The action simply caused Derek to growl in warning. 

The hand on Stiles’ dick sped up, and the moan that the teen let out was louder and more wanton than he had thought possible outside of a porn movie set. It was nothing like masturbating, didn’t even compare. It might as well be classified as another action all together (well, technically it was). Not knowing when Derek was going to speed up or slow down, apply pressure or tease the tip. It was near maddening, and Stiles felt himself growing closer to the brink fast.

Stiles grabbed hold of Derek’s shirt, pressing his face against the man’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop shivering, his hips jerking to maintain a rhythm that Derek refused to allow. Stiles’ breaths were coming heavy, heavier, he couldn’t even breath. 

“Derek, please.” 

He didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore, to be released or given release. Something, something, this was maddening.

Derek chuckled into his ear before biting the cartilage. “Are you going to be a good boy for me then?”

Stiles nodded frantically, only half aware of what he was doing. “Yes. Derek _please_.”

The man stopped and pushed Stiles’ back against the wall, separating all contact but that one hand on the teen’s chest. No, this isn’t want Stiles wanted, this was the opposite of what he wanted. He went to touch himself and whined as Derek caught both of his wrists in one hand, forcing them above Stiles’ head.

Derek wasn’t smiling now. He learned forward, the words ghosting from his mouth onto Stiles' now sensitive lips. “Submit.”

Stiles looked away, ashamed. He couldn’t blame this on delirium, though lust was definitely still a factor. His cock was hard and aching, and his hips were squirming with the need for friction.

“Submit,” Derek growled into his ear. “You watched the video. You know how.”

Stiles closed his eyes and knew that Derek could hear his heartbeat. Would know if he lied. He forced his chin upwards, offering his neck like a sacrifice, like a promise. The black of the necklace cord contrasted the white skin, and the metal spirals gleamed in the hallway light. “I want you.”

Derek smiled as he bit down upon the teen’s neck once more.

+++

Stiles was tired and pliant as Derek gently laid him on the guestroom bed. He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up naked (even the necklace appeared to have been taken off), or how Derek was naked now too, though really? Was that anything new? He just knew that he had had one of the most mind blowing orgasms ever (like really, ever, he would have remembered, even in his current post-ograsm haze), and that his limbs felt like noodles and his blood like syrup.

It wasn’t surprising that Derek decided to join him in the bed, or that joining basically entailed climbing on top of him and starting up with the whole licking every inch of skin the man could find thing. Stiles never knew before that a warm swipe of tongue along his nipple could make his hips jerk like that, or that licking the skin between his shoulder and neck would make him moan like this. Derek was taking him apart step by step, finding secrets within Stiles body that he himself wasn’t even aware of until now.

The consent was a little less dubious and a little more resigned on Stiles’ part, especially by the fact that Derek’s own hard-on was rubbing against his thighs. What had the man said before?

_“You’re releasing pheromones that are making me want to... mount you.”_

Derek hand was traveling dangerously down Stiles' stomach, and yeah, his virgin ass? That seemed to be on the menu for tonight.

“Derek, wait,” Stiles muttered, grabbing the back of the man’s neck.

“No,” Derek said, light heartedly though. He had grabbed Stiles’ thigh and was lifting it up. “I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to love it.” 

“I know, and I know you’re not going to stop,” Stiles reasoned, oddly calm. “But if you know I’m a virgin you know I’m going to need preparation.”

“I’ll lick it.” Derek emphasized the statement with a swipe of tongue along the teeth marks on Stiles’ neck, a favorite spot of his at the moment. “I’ll lick it so good, you’re going to feel so good.”

It took a moment for Stiles to remember how vocal cords worked. “As disturbing and strangely hot as that sounds, I think lube is our best bet. And since I’m figuring you don’t have some just laying around, I suggest you go get the beginner’s pack thing I got at the sex shop.”

Derek froze, and when he looked up it was with a heated glare. “You went into a sex shop-”

Stiles kissed his way-too-jealous lover, making sure to add lots of enthusiasm, lapping at the man’s lips for entrance. Sure, it wasn’t exactly suave, but Derek reacted positively enough after a moment of hesitation. As they pulled away Derek's eyes were half lidded with pleasure.

“I was just curious. It’s where I bought your dog collar.” Stiles grinned, hoping to get Derek in on the joke. The man was obviously still pissed. “You can punish me later, okay?” And oh, shit, that should not have made Derek shudder the way he did. “For now, I need you to get in my backpack and take out the brown paper bag.”

It only took a few seconds (literally, a few seconds, was he about to fuck Superman?) before Derek was out and back with the paper bag in his hands. Stiles grabbed it and dumped the contents on the bed, releasing a mini shower of lube packets and condoms. Okay, thank god his hunch was correct.

Derek quickly set to work tearing open a packet of lube with his teeth (that really shouldn’t have looked as hot as it did), and coated his fingers with the slick substance. Stiles could help but gulp at the action. He’d never tried anything like touching himself in that certain location, and here he was about to take a dick in it. It always looked like the guys in gay porn liked it, but they were paid to like it. That wasn’t really much consolation. He knew anal was a pretty big practice (even girls sometimes liked it, right?) but it still didn’t make him feel much better.

“Wait, wait.” Stiles went to grab a condom.

“No,” Derek warned, pinning the boy’s hand. “It’ll break.”

Holy _fuck_.

Derek went back to gnawing at Stiles’ neck as he rubbed along the teen’s ass, forcing a finger inside quickly without much of a how-do-you-do. Stiles hissed at the intrusion, but it wasn’t painful, just weird. He tried to adjust his legs to allow easier entrance, willing himself to remain calm and relax his muscles. After a few minutes of slow coaxing, Stiles began rolling his head back with the feel of it (too bizarre, too new). Derek took this as invitation to add another finger (too quickly, not quickly enough, just starting to creep along that weird edge of painful).

The feeling was a mixture between a slight burn and a fizzling heat. Derek grew quieter as he prepared Stiles, fingers going faster occasionally to the teen's distaste (liking). Stiles, for his part, was beginning to grow hard again, but as soon as he went to touch himself he was warned off by a low growl. Okay, right, no self pleasure tonight, but he was going to go crazy at this pace. The friction in his ass was too much (not enough)- God, couldn’t Stiles libido just make up its freaking mind?

Quickly the fingers were taken out, and Derek, now demanding and past the point of conversation, pushed Stiles’ shoulder, beginning to force the teen to turn around.

“No!” Stiles couldn’t help but cry, and Derek growled at his small insurrection. “Please,” he muttered hopelessly.

Derek quieted, reaching out to pet Stiles' sides with a suggestion of comfort. His hands weren’t shaking, but Stiles was.

And Stiles, knew that there was no way he could escape. But there was something about turning his back, something that was so vulnerable, so terrifying. He put his hand up, slowly, making sure Derek saw every motion, and rubbed the man’s stubbled cheek. He wanted to convey this need, the need to look into Derek’s eyes as he- as they- just to be able to see them, though now stained an unholy blue, to somehow know that it was still Derek who was above him, who was taking him now. A comfort when no other comforts seemed possible.

Derek seemed more wolf than man now, carnivorous fangs gleaming in the lamplight, his hands turned to claws, sinking into the sheets. He seemed to be struggling, his humanity and animal instinct fighting it out inside him.

Stiles knew that he had appealed to the man as much as possible, but now was the time to appeal to the wolf. He slowly wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, and lifted himself upwards to bite it with a teasing nip. Derek stilled, and Stiles knew he was playing on dangerous ground here. Still, playing was the key.

_Wolves will act playful and young when showing submission, displaying their lack of hostility._

Stiles whined into Derek’s neck, squirming his back like a puppy. His jutted his hips forward, rubbing his dick along the Derek's in a way that made them both shiver. “Come on Derek, like this,” he muttered softly. “Fuck me like this.”

Derek was panting, his claws ripping through the covers before grasping Stiles’ hips, firm but not bruising. It sent a shiver up Stiles’ spine to know how easy the man could bruise him, break him. Derek lifted Stiles' hips and slowly began to enter him, shuddering against the instinct to force himself in as Stiles head fell back. Derek’s dick slipped along inch by inch, slowly, definitely not too slowly, because it was freaking huge. Shoulders shifting, Stiles knew that his neck was exposed like this, and hoped he wasn’t being a tease, but couldn’t help it. Now it was him who was grasping the blanket beneath them, squirming with the feeling of being filled by Derek, by the man who he hadn’t even known a week.

And that was the point where he felt like crying. He put his arm over his eyes and held back. How was this his life? He didn’t really feel like a whore, but he felt pretty damn close. Maybe it was because how much he knew he wanted this. Even with Derek being all jacked up from the moon, and not even knowing if the man liked him. How fucked up was that? He was having sex with a man who he didn’t even know found him attractive. Stiles felt his breath hitch from the thought.

At this point Derek bottomed out, pressed all the way inside Stiles in a way that felt so bizarre, but then he stopped, just completely went still. Stiles moved his arms to see what was wrong, only to find the man staring down at him with a look of heart breaking concern. Derek whined softly in the back of his throat, and went to nose Stiles neck in comfort. It was a lot like Wolfy would do, which was kind of a freaky thought.

“I’m alright,” Stiles muttered, petting the back of Derek’s head. He wasn’t, but maybe Derek was so in a werewolf induced haze he wouldn’t notice the lie.

Derek whined again and began to pet Stiles' sides, careful to use only his palm and avoid scratching. No such luck, then.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Stiles admitted, and that was true. It didn’t, not much anyway. “I just don’t know if...” He looked away. “If you even like me, is all.” He felt like a girl. No, worse (and also kind of anti-feminist, sorry ladies) he felt like a romance novel damsel. But damn if it wasn’t true.

Derek nuzzled Stiles ear, and whispered roughly, “I love you.”

Uh, pardon him? What? Love? Who was even talking about love? Stiles said like, and Stiles meant like. Saying I love you was like the last line of a movie, the climax of a book. It wasn’t something you just threw at a teenage boy you had only met a few days ago. It was really little wonder Stiles froze at the sentence, went wide eyed.

Derek began to move then, light thrusts while still buried deep within Stiles’, rotating his hips in a way that made the teen’s breath pick up again. “You’re mine.”

Stiles hips began to arch as the burn began to feel so good, so bizarre. His dick rubbed along Derek’s stomach, the man pulling himself close, biting random pieces of skin as his thrusts began to grow longer, faster. Stiles' moans sounded blown out and foreign to him.

It wasn’t long before Derek was thrusting along his entire length, nearly exiting Stiles completely before slamming himself back in. The bed shuddered beneath them. Suddenly the angle changed and Derek hit a spot that sent tendrils of heat straight to Stiles’s cock. He felt like glass, shattered into thousands of crystallized shards. Derek’s heat crashed onto him, into him, melting him down, forging him into something new, something brilliant.

Stiles clung to Derek like a drowning man, trying to find an anchor as he lost himself. He could feel his abdomen tightening in a way that foretold release, and he moaned Derek’s name in warning. But the man was too lost to even respond as he simply kept on thrusting deep into Stiles, hard and fast and hitting this spot made the teen feel so good. Stiles squirmed beneath him, tightening in a way that made Derek howl in pleasure; thank god there were no neighbors around because it sounded straight up feral. Stiles hips jerked forward as he came, back arching like an arrow’s bow, muscles tightening along his lanky frame. He cried out a final time, nails digging into Derek’s shoulders as he spent himself upon their stomachs. Finally finding release was bliss.

He had barely flopped down onto the bed, feeling utterly drained, when he noticed that Derek had slowed down. At first Stiles thought this was out of consideration, because even those shallow thrusts hit his over sensitive body like an electric current. But then he noticed something weird going on with Derek’s cock.

_The bulbus glandis (also called a knot) is an erectile tissue structure on the penis of canid mammals. During mating the tissues swell up and lock the male's penis inside the female._

Well, the more you fucking know, cause that was apparently what was happening with his werewolf lover _right now_.

Stiles did the only sensible thing to do in this situation, and panicked. (Okay, not sensible, but definitely the most realistic thing to expect out of a teenage boy who didn’t even know werewolves existed until a few hours ago, much less that he was going to be having sex with one.) Derek didn’t take kindly to that, and bit down on the side of Stiles’ neck in a warning. Okay, he got it. No running away while the man pumped cum into his ass.

Not that it was really _pumping_. It was more like intermediate bursts of warm liquid that made Stiles squirm. At least Derek had gone still for the duration. How long did it usually last? Did he remember correctly that it could last a half an hour? 30 whole minutes of lying in bed with a werewolf’s swollen cock in his ass. At least Derek was too wolfed out to hold a conversation.

And, of course, naturally, with Stiles’ amazing luck, that was when Derek decided to mutter, “Sorry.”

“Now?” Stiles asked, gaping. “ _Now_ you decide to clear your head?” Seriously, worst timing ever. And really, sorry was about the worst thing to say after having sex with someone. Well, maybe not worse than a discussion about how Stiles should probably check for some sort of weird werewolf syphilis, but sorry was pretty high up there.

Derek tensed up (the bastard). “I’m sorry if now isn’t convenient enough for you.”

“No. You do not get to be sarcastic! You are not the one with a fucking _knot_ in your ass!”

“In my defense, had I been in the right state of mind, I would have thought to warn you,” Derek said in a dry tone.

“Oh great. That makes me feel alot better, really. I’m so comforted by the fact that, hey, had you not gone full on molester mode, you would have had the consideration to mention it.”

The accusation made Derek wince. “I’m sorry...”

“So not the time,” Stiles muttered angrily. He was not about to feel guilty about telling the truth, no matter how sincere the man sounded.

“Really, I am. This was never suppose to happen.”

The struggle to fight of guilt was apparently a losing one, because Stiles was beginning to crumble under the weight of it. “Well, I mean... I shouldn’t have opened the door.”

The man frowned. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, I’m the one hurting here! Literally and figuratively!” Stiles wiggled his hips in emphasis, causing both of them to hiss.

“Do you really believe that?” The look Derek gave him was questioning, searching for something. Searching for what?

Stiles went back to his old biting his lip and avoiding eye contact routine. “Well... how do you feel then?”

The silence that stretched between them was almost more awkward the the fact that Derek’s dick was still up his ass. Almost.

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted, sounding lost.

Stiles shuddered, and it was only partially because of the chilled room. He didn’t know what else to say. Derek pressed them lightly together, boxing Stiles into the bed. Derek was warm, but Stiles’ arms were laid on the bed, refusing to hold the man who wasn’t quite a lover, who wasn’t even quite a friend.

“We’ll talk about it afterwards,” Derek promised into his ear, his voice gentle. “I promise.”

Stiles didn’t fall asleep, but he wished he would. It was a bitter kind of torture, having Derek so close, yet so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one or two chapters to go!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Derek was silent for a long time, but Stiles didn’t interrupt. The man was obviously thinking. When he spoke it was with a professional, clinical tone. “The wolf side of me and the human side of me are two halves of the same coin. It’s... Have you ever heard of Carl Jung?”_
> 
> _“Uh... Didn’t Michael Fassbender play him in that one movie?”_

By the time Derek dragged his dick out of Stiles the boy felt like his bladder was about to burst. And while Derek (being a werewolf and all) might be into waterworks, no way did Stiles find wetting the bed to be sexy.

“Bathroom, bathroom!” he shouted, jumping out of bed only to collapse onto the floor. Whoa, this was new. When did his legs decide to go all Bambi on him?

Derek pulled him up. “Need help?” he asked with a quirked brow.

“Uh, no, I’m fine, just fine.” No way Stiles was going to be carried into the bathroom like a kid. He had just lost his virginity, had his heart kinda broken and then put back together somewhat in a weird sex lust way, only to have it broken again- yeah, Stiles was definitely qualified as an adult now. He may be even more adult like than most adults. Yeah.

Stiles slowly walked to the bathroom, refusing to look back at the man who had just sexed him up so thoroughly he now had to hide a wince every time he took a step forward. Not that it hurt _that_ much, just movement was a little tricky right now.

After relieving his bladder and washing up a bit, which was a pretty awkward experience overall, Stiles wrapped a towel around his waist and went to find some clothes. On his way back to the bedroom he noticed that Derek’s bedroom door was open, and suddenly remembering he had never seen it before, went to take a look inside.

The first thing he noticed was it was filled with gym equipment. Weights mostly, but also a bench press and a yoga ball (heh). In the corner was a sleeping bag, and next to it was a pile of clothes. Derek wasn’t there, and with a sudden jolt Stiles realized it wasn’t a bedroom. It was a workout room.

Which meant the room that Stiles had been sleeping in for the past couple of nights had been Derek’s bedroom.

He didn’t know how to take that. Guilty for starters for stealing the man’s bedroom, because that just wasn’t cool. Kind of sad that there was no personalization, no posters or photos, so much so that Stiles had instantly assumed the bedroom to be the guest room. Or if there were, Derek wasn’t hiding them in this room. And an odd sense of... something. Again with the something! What was it? It was kind of warm but also bittersweet. Lonely yet comforting. What the hell did you call it?

Maybe it was... love?

Stiles quickly shook that thought away. No way he loved the guy. They had known each other for a few days. That only happened in cheesy movies and poorly written online porn. And no matter what Derek had said when they were having sex, the man couldn’t be in love with Stiles. It had just been a bizarro moment of lust and crazy moon madness.

Stiles quickly dressed and went out to find Derek seated at the dining room table. He grabbed a glass of water and sat down gingerly across from the man.

“So,” Stiles began lightly, “anything you want to explain now that we’ve become a bit more... intimate?”

A wince. “I’d rather you not call what I did intimacy.”

“Okay, well... Anything you’d like to explain?”

Derek was silent for a long time, but Stiles didn’t interrupt. The man was obviously thinking. When he spoke it was with a professional, clinical tone. “The wolf side of me and the human side of me are two halves of the same coin. It’s... Have you ever heard of Carl Jung?”

“Uh... Didn’t Michael Fassbender play him in that one movie?”

Derek frowned the way the Sheriff did when having to deal with Stiles’ sass in a serious moment. “He was a psychologist. He believed that all of mankind had a persona. It was like a mask. Humanity for us, for werewolves, is like a persona, a mask we have to present to the rest of the world ”

When the hell had Stiles signed up for a college lecture? Not that he was really complaining, but he felt like he had walked into a math class and someone was teaching WWI.

Derek continued, “The full moon is something that creates conflict in those two halves. Bloodlust can do the same thing. When the thin line between man and wolf cracks we become... strange.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay, I get that. Every horror movie ever has prepared me for the whole, growing hair all over your body and wanting to tear up everything in sight. Right. But you were normal- in fact, you were a bit more normal than usual when you tried to make me open the door. Pretty damn human up to... a certain point.”

Derek shook his head. “That’s because it was... lust, not anger. Teenagers and the newly turned may react to both feelings the same, but I’m an adult now, and I’ve always had my wolf. Usually I’m able to control it.”

“Why couldn’t you control it now?”

“Back to Jung,” Derek deflected. “He believed we all have common memories, a collective conscious that all men share. My wolf is somewhat like that. I still feel the instinct, even if I can get it behind my mask. It’s not different from who I am, it’s a part of who I am. Usually I can let my feelings manifest themselves in other ways, or in drastic measures hide them away completely. It was just that the feelings I had were too... strong.”

“So, are you saying that you were the one who had the hots for me?” Stiles went for nonchalant, he really did, but he had a hard time keeping the hope from his voice.

“In a sense, yes,” Derek conceded. “In a way you could describe it, my wolf liked you first, but there’s really no difference. I’ve heard that attraction can be quick. It’s almost like a sense.”

“So I’m like werewolf catnip?” Stiles joked with a grin.

It was a nice sign when Derek smirked, no matter how small it was and how quick it was gone. “Yeah, sort of. Somewhat like my personal flavor, though I’m not sure how other wolves would react to you. At first that was all it was, physical attraction. It was only that-,” and here Derek hesitated. “It was only that my wolf got to know you, and began to trust you. That’s a big thing to us, even if you weren’t aware you were doing it.”

“Okay, right, your inner Wolfy was down with my Stilinski cuddles. How does that make you freak out and sex me up? And why weren’t you full on beserker while doing so? And why aren’t you still sexing me up? It’s still night last time I checked.”

It took a long time for Derek to sift through how he was going to answer these questions, and Stiles had a hard time not asking more. He started tapping his fingers, ignoring Derek’s glare.

“It’s hard to explain how the full moon affects us after we get control over the shift,” Derek began, full on lecture mode again. He should get some glasses and teach a class or something. Actually, that would be pretty hot. Stiles wouldn’t mind playing the naughty schoolboy. “What you’re describing is similar to what happens in the beginning. We lose control of the balance between humanity and wolf and shift into our third state, halfway in between. Our animal instincts completely overpower our humanity, and we usually react violently.”

“Right, but you were like... suave. Or something. Seductive?” Stiles looked away, embarrassed at blurting out _that_ certain truth. “Convincing.”

“That was my wolf influencing my human. It’s like a breaking point, and my true self snaps and transforms into something that acts on whatever desire I’m suppressing. I was surprised myself when it showed itself in... that way. If I had known I would have tried to trick you into opening the door, I would have warned you.”

“Well that’s good to know.”

Another ghost of a smirk. “As for why I’ve gotten control over myself now... I’ve already gotten what my wolf wanted. After I allowed my desires to control me, no matter how unwilling, I was able to grasp my humanity and retain control.”

“So you just wanted to fuck me? Wow, you could have probably done that just by asking.” Stiles knew he sounded a lot more confident than he was, but it was true. Derek had admitted he knew that Stiles was into him. Why play pretend?

Derek eyes were intense when Stiles looked up, and for the first time in the conversation they flashed blue. “Not fuck you, Stiles. Mark you. My wolf wanted to mark you.”

Okay, that sounded a lot different. Stiles felt his ears turn red as he asked, “What do you mean by mark me?”

Derek shrugged. “Just that. Shower you with my scent, show others you were mine. It was wrong, in any case. You’re not even out of highschool yet.”

“So, what, do werewolves still abide by the whole, underage thing being a no-no?”

“Yes- well, no.” The man glared. “Don’t try to generalize all werewolves by my actions.”

Stiles put up his hands. “Whoa, sorry dude. Didn’t mean to be speciest.” He suppressed the urge to laugh.

“I don’t do the underage- look, I have personal history with it that wasn’t a... positive experience. I was even younger than you are.”

“Whoa, you were under sixteen? That’s kind of crazy.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot way up. “You’re sixteen...?”

Stiles wrinkled his brow. “Uh... yeah. I thought you knew that.” It was obvious, with the look the man gave him, that Derek didn’t. “Come on, you knew I was in high school!”

Derek groaned and put his head in his hands. “I was hoping you were a senior.”

“I’m very mature for my age!”

Derek snorted. “Some could argue that.”

Okay, _most_ could argue that.

“Look, just because some dude broke your heart when you were a teenager-” Stiles began to rant.

“It was a woman,” Derek corrected, voice suddenly monotone.

“Oh...” You know those moments, when you say something, and somehow it got an okay in your brain? Some part of your subconscious looked at the sentence, gave it a once over, and sent it over to your vocal cords. But once it’s out of your mouth you instantly regretted ever even having the notion to say it? “That’s cool. I’m bi too.”

Yeah, that was one of those moments.

“Nice to know,” Derek deadpanned.

“No, I mean- that doesn’t negate my point! Just because she broke your heart-”

“She burnt down my house.”

Whoa, what the hell. That wasn’t expected. Stiles didn’t know the proper protocol for responding to something so from left field like that. “Okay, she was a bit psycho, I don’t see-”

“With most of my family still in it.”

“Oh... I’m sorry.” And Stiles was. That was really messed up, beyond messed up. Stiles had only lost his mom. What would it be like if he lost his whole family?

“Don’t be,” Derek warned, voice still devoid of emotion. “It was a long time ago.”

Actually, now that he thought about it, that story sounded really familiar now. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Derek obviously thought this somehow affected their relationship (did they even have anything like a relationship?). “Look, maybe this demoness has made it so you can’t trust anyone, but can’t we at least try?”

“It’s not that. Well, not just that.” Derek leaned forward, and looked so sincere it almost hurt. So angry and disgusted, and it was obviously aimed at himself. “I was the reason it happened Stiles. I was the one who let her in, who trusted her. It’s my fault that my family died. I deserve to be alone.”

Stiles slammed down his hands. “No, it’s not!”

“Stiles...” The man sounded tired.

“And no, you don’t!”

“I don’t want to argue about this.”

“And holy shit, you’re Derek _Hale_.”

How could Stiles not have realized this before? Derek Hale. Of the Hale house. Of the Hale house fire like, six years ago. Sure, he was only ten when it happened, but it was a Beacon Hills legend. He and Scott would sometimes go to the creepy, charred remains and dare each other to walk inside. Derek and Laura Hale, the two survivors who moved out of town after it happened.

Mr. Hale, local Beacon Hills legend, was obviously not taking interviews. “That was a long time ago.”

Stiles was gesturing madly now. “If you know it was her why don’t you just get her convicted?”

“Oh, and with what proof? That she refused to answer my calls and left town the day it happened? That I smelled her around my house when I came home from school? That her family were fucking hunters and they all, no matter what their precious code might say, want to kill my kind, no matter if a few humans have to be sacrificed in the process, or children, or innocents that never hurt a living soul?” Derek’s voice was like a thundercloud, growing darker and darker as he spoke. “She’d get away without so much as an arrest and then I’ll have Argents trying to hunt me down harder than before. It’s a waste of effort.”

Stiles look down into his lap and bit his lip. “I didn’t know.”

Derek deflated a little at that. “Of course you didn’t know. You’re just a human. And you should remain that way.” He stood up. “I’m going to drop you off at the hotel now, and I want you to get your stuff. You’re going to wait for your jeep to be fixed, drive home, and never talk to me again. Got it? I want to be alone.”

Stiles couldn’t do anything but nod and go to do just that. What was he suppose to say? This wasn’t his world. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to make this his world. But he couldn’t help but look back into Derek’s figure, and notice how lonely the man looked, how broken.

Did Derek want to be alone, or did he think he had to be?

+++

“Aunt Vivian!” Stiles called, knocking on the door more enthusiastically than he felt at the moment. But he was going to grin and bear it and be the best freakin grand-nephew ever, as per usual. “It’s me, Stiles!” 

The drive back into town with Derek had been awkward and quiet. Did he say quiet? He meant silent, as in dead silent. Not really a word spoken between them until they had stopped in front of the hotel and Stiles had said an awkward goodbye and Derek had grunted in response and then driven away.

As far as romantic goodbyes went, that had to be the bottom of the barrel.

Of course this was after Derek had demanded Stiles’ phone and deleted his number. Not that it mattered, Stiles had long since emailed it to himself in preparation. Not that _that_ mattered, since even if he did call what would he say? Hey, gotten over your ex’s betrayal and murder of most of your family? Want to go grab dinner and a movie? Ready to move away from the middle of nowhere and maybe crash at my place for a few days?

Yeah, so not happening.

Stiles supposed he could wait awhile and call just to ask how things are, but if Derek’s own sister couldn’t get a returned text how was he expecting the man to answer his call? Plan B involved waiting for the next trip to Aunt Vivian’s and trying to find the cabin somehow. Maybe if he had a map? That plan sounded a bit too suicidal for his taste though. Maybe his one year plan would have to creep into two? He had a lot of experience with impossible crushes and multi-year plans at this stage of his life.

“Aunt Vivian?” Stiles called again, and checked to see if the door was locked. Finding it open, he walked inside after shaking the snow off his sneakers. His hands and neck felt cold and he was definitely ready for one of her knitted wonders. “I’m coming in!” Her car was in the driveway (and a second one, a lot newer, what was up with that?), so why wasn’t she responding?

Stiles got a bad feeling as he walked up the hall. She could be taking a nap, but she also could be knocked unconscious. Robbers tended to prey on the elderly, wasn’t that right? Maybe that’s what the other car was. Damn, why did she have to keep her door unlocked, even in the middle of the day that was- and that’s when he noticed the young woman in the living room.

“Hello Stiles,” she said with a cherry lipstick smile. She took a sip of the tea in her hand. “Your Aunt is in the kitchen if you want to go see her.”

“Stiles?” his Aunt called. “Stiles Stilinksi, is that you?” She walked into the living room with an apron coated in flour. “Why, bless my heart, it is! Come here baby and give your Aunt a hug!”

Stiles did so with only a little bit of embarrassment as the mystery woman smirked as he did so. But not even a kiss on his cheek or the subsequent pinch could stop him from smiling, even with the front of his hoodie now coated white with flour.

“You’ve been through quite an adventure I hear!” Aunt Vivian said with a crinkled smile. “Got in an accident, you poor thing you! Nearly had a heart attack when you didn’t make it to my house that night. I’m making some gingerbread cookies, it may be a little late but no one’s going to care. Did you bring that wine for me?”

It wasn’t hard to see where Stiles got his gift of gab.

“Yeah, it’s still in the car.” He put his backpack on an overstuffed armchair. “I can go get it now if you want.”

She flapped her hands. “No, no, it’s fine. You can have some for New Years tonight, I’m sure your father won’t mind.” She gave him a wink before looking over her shoulder and saying, “Will you be staying with us for New Years, Laura?”

Stiles heart jumped into his throat.

The woman (who couldn’t possible be Derek’s sister, no way, Laura was a popular name right?) smiled sweetly. “If you’ll have me Vivian, I would love to.”

“And your brother won’t be joining us?” Aunt Vivian asked with concern.

Stiles couldn’t breath.

Laura’s (and there had to be thousands of Lauras with brothers, this still didn’t prove anything) smile faltered a bit. “No, he’s a bit of a loner at the moment.”

Aunt Vivian shook her head. “That boy had better learn the importance of family if he wants to be happy in life. Like my Stiles, drove all the way up here just to be with me!” She waved her hand. “Not that we don’t owe Derek a lot, putting Stiles up for all those days, saving him from the snow. Why, my heart breaks just thinking about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there!” 

Okay, Stiles officially felt like he was going to pass out. He hoped his Aunt had life alert. Help, he was about to fall and he was _not_ going to be able to get back up.

Laura nodded gravely. “I’m sure Stiles did Derek a world of good, being with him for Christmas.”

“Of course my baby did, he brings light when he walks into a room you know.” Aunt Vivian winked again.

Embarrassment was a good way to snap out of his shock. “Aunt Vivian, come on!”

“Now, now, you’re a handsome boy, well spoken, could do to dress a little better. And a little warmer! Lucky I went the whole nine yards and knitted you a sweater” She laughed. “Now let me finish these cookies and you can tell me about the whole ordeal, because Laura doesn’t seem to know much detail!” With another pinch to his cheek she rushed off to the kitchen.

Stiles stood awkwardly before the sister of the man who he was (kinda, somewhat, not really but if you squint) in love with.

She patted the spot next to her on the couch. “I believe me and you have a lot to talk about.”

+++

It turned out that the conversation would have to wait until after Aunt Vivian went to bed, which meant waiting until after New Years Eve because the woman was a traditionalist till the end. Stiles had gotten a small glass of wine for his trouble, and he had sipped it with her and Laura, wishing he could drown the whole bottle to calm his nerves. His leg wouldn’t stop jittering the whole night.

So when Aunt Vivian finally called it a night, Stiles nearly burst with the questions he had, starting with-

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” Laura said with a sense of faux mystery before laughing. “No, really though, you don’t think I wouldn’t keep tabs on my baby brother? I’m facebook friends with half of the people in town. Used a different last name of course.” She took out her phone and started scrolling. “And wasn’t it a surprise when I found this.” She handed the phone to Stiles.

Stacey Fisher posted: _So the kid who’s staying with the ever mysterious Derek Hale is a total cutie, that’s all I have to say on the matter! ;3_

Stiles didn’t know how to react to being called a cutie, or the fact that Laura Hale was facebook friends with the person who gave him lube, or that Derek’s sister may be a Class A stalker.

Laura snatched the phone back. “So, naturally I messaged her about you, found your facebook, found your friend Scott’s facebook, talked to him a bit- he’s a total sweetheart by the way, but a bit too free with giving information out to strangers.”

Yeah, if that stranger was an attractive female within the ages of 14-30, Scott could be pretty accommodating. Boy was going to make one girl very, very happy or very, very creeped out with his lovelorn ways.

Laura went on, “Learned through him that you were going to your Aunt Vivian’s, friended her and told her what I learned from Stacey, she invited me over and I was in the state anyway so I thought I would stop by, and thus here we are. And now it’s your turn to tell me what else happened, and why you nearly had a panic attack when you heard my name.” Her eyes were set in a way that was almost scary in how similar they were to Derek’s stubborn face, though the smile was definitely a differing factor.

That was going a bit far (Stiles had had panic attacks before, it was way scarier than the shock he felt earlier), but he could see her point. “Well... okay. But it’s kind of a long story.”

He told her nearly everything. He had already glazed over most of the details when he was telling his Aunt about the ordeal earlier, but now he delved into the past few days as much as he could. The only parts he left out were perhaps some of the more ‘intimate’ moments (no need to embarrass Derek by telling his sister the man had jumped an underage boy’s bones). He didn’t expect to, but somehow he told her a bit more about how he felt along the way than he expected. Perhaps it was finally getting to let it all out, now that he didn’t have Wolfy to vent to. Maybe all werewolves had that dog like quality that made you want to spill your guts out to them.

Laura was very quiet until he was completely done. After he finished he just sort of sat there and bit his lip, worried over what she would think. Would she be upset Derek told him about the whole werewolves thing? Disgusted that a weak human was kind of in love with her brother? It was nerve racking, seeing her eyes flicker as she took it all in.

“My brother is an idiot,” she said with a huff.

Well, Stiles couldn’t disagree with that. “I mean, he’s been through a lot,” he couldn’t help but argue.

“Oh, come off it. I still can’t believe he feels guilty after all these years years. I didn’t blame him when we were teenagers, and I still don’t blame him now. He just has to learn to stop blaming himself. Idiot.”

It felt good to have someone who finally shared his opinion of Derek’s mental capacities. “I know! I don’t understand why he has to freaking _exile_ himself over something like that! I mean, has he always been that way?”

“No, he only moved away recently. We were up in New York for some time when he decided to go the whole hermit route. I was hoping he would grow out of this phase and come home a lot earlier, but he’s almost stuck it out a whole year.” Laura shook her head. “It’s especially bad for werewolves to be without a pack. It hurts our wolf to be alone. I’m surprised he didn’t try to attack you on the full moon.”

Stiles hoped Laura didn’t notice his quickening heartbeat and reddening ears.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand to her mouth. No such luck. “I mean- well. You have to understand it’s a very natural reaction if he’s going to be suppressing his desire for companionship for all those months. Not to say you weren’t special, in some way! Its not like- dammit, I’m really putting my foot in my mouth aren’t I?”

“Do you think...” Oh god, how could he put this. “Do you think it would have happened no matter who it was he found?”

“Oh god, no.” Laura rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what exactly happened, but it smells like my brother nearly bathed you in his scent. He’s never reacted that way with anyone. Not only that, he trusted you enough to tell you his secret. That says a lot.” Suddenly her smile turned sharp. “And that means I trust you enough to get you in on a super secret mission. Codename: Get Derek’s Butt Off That Damn Mountain.”

Stiles matched her grin with one of his own. For the first time in the past couple of days, he felt a small glimmer of hope. “I’m listening.”

+++

Laura’s plan ended up kind of sucking. Well, okay, results had to be seen before the sucking could be confirmed, but currently it sucked. Currently being Stiles sitting underneath a pine, in the snow, in the forest somewhere outside Derek’s house, having no idea where the hell he was. Again. God, freezing to death was starting to get old. Not that he was really freezing to _death_ , especially with his new awesome sweater, scarf and mittens, but still, he was pretty cold.

That was when his cellphone went off, the number flashing not a part of his contacts. After a moment of fumbling around and peeling off one of his mittens with his teeth, Stiles finally clicked the answer button and answered with a slightly confused, “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“...Derek?”

The man grunted. “Answer the question Stiles.”

“Ah, under a tree, chilling.” Perhaps it wasn’t quite an appropriate time for puns, but when was Stiles going to get an opportunity like this?

“Don’t move, I’m coming to get you.” There was a background noise of branches snapping.

“I didn’t know you kept my number...”

There was a long pause, and Stiles was almost sure the man had hung up before Derek answered, “It was in my history, that’s all. I don’t make many calls.”

“Oh, okay... Should I hang up?”

“No,” Derek said hastily. He paused once more and said, “No, I’d rather you stay on the line until I find you.”

“Okay. I’ll just _chill out_ until you get me then.” God, the puns wrote themselves in a situation like this.

Once more his humor was completely lost on the man. (Laura had seemed to be able to take a joke, so Stiles supposed it wasn’t a werewolf thing.) “You don’t sound nearly scared enough for someone who’s lost in the woods,” Derek accused, sounding annoyed again.

“Oh, well I’m not really. I mean, yeah, I don’t know where I am, but Laura told me to sit here and wait.”

“...Laura,” Derek muttered darkly to himself.

“What, did she tell you something else?” Stiles had assumed when Laura had walked off it was to find the cabin and talk to Derek. He wasn’t quite sure what the woman had to say, but he was fairly confident in her. At least she appeared confident in what she was doing.

“She told me you were walking together and you had wandered off. I should have known this was planned.”

“Are you not going to find me now?” Stiles asked in a way that hopefully appeared that he didn’t care one way or the other.

“No. Knowing her, she’ll just make me find you anyway.”

“What, she would let me freeze?” Stiles joked.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Derek sounded way too serious when he said that.

“What?! Dude, are you serious? She would seriously let me freeze?” Stiles was starting to panic here. What kind of woman had he made a deal with?

“People always called me the nicer sibling for a reason. She may put on face but- okay, I found you.” The call ended abruptly.

Stiles swiveled his head around frantically, trying to find the man before noticing Derek walking towards him. It brought back certain flashbacks that he would rather not remember, but couldn’t possibly hope to forget.

“Hey,” Stiles said, waving a hand with an awkward grin.

“Hey,” Derek answered, walking straight up to him and looking down with that stoic, no-expression, real manly men don’t have emotions look.

“So should we-”

Stiles was very effectively cut off when Derek sunk to his knees and proceeded to hug him, cradling his head against Stiles’ shoulder. He was breathing heavily, like he was out of breath. “I’m seriously considering banning you from going outside without me,” he mused, clutching Stiles tight.

“Well, that’s going to be awkward giving our current living situations. But I’m sure something can be arranged,” Stiles reasoned before slowly hugging Derek in return, closing his eyes at the sensation.

He was warm.


	10. Epilogue

“So Scott said that he’s going to make first line this year. Yeah, right, in his dreams. It would take a miracle for that to happen.”

Derek snorted. “What about you? Aren’t you going to try to make the team?”

“Whoa there, I’m on the team. Just cause I’m not first line doesn’t make me any less important,” Stiles ranted, faking hurt. It was bad enough he had to start the school year in a week, much less that he had to remember his unpopularity within the system.

“Yes, the bench would definitely miss your presence, I’m sure,” Derek snarked.

Stiles bit his lip. “Are you thinking about coming down anytime soon?” New York was way too far away. Seriously, why was America such a big country?

Derek didn’t answer for awhile, but that was okay. Stiles knew it was a tough question.

“I might,” the man conceded, and Stiles couldn’t help but do a fist pump in victory. “Laura told me she was going to California soon, but she said it was something she had to do alone. I’m apparently on standby if anything happens though.” He sounded miffed at the thought.

Stiles chuckled. “No going against your alpha, right?” He still couldn’t believe that Laura, who Stiles had pinned as being one of the nicest people ever, was something as bad ass an alpha. He felt another moment of hesitation before asking, “Do you want to meet up close by or..?”

It hadn’t been easy. At first Stiles would drive up to the mountain house, those first few months when Derek had been against moving back with Laura but still promising to call and return texts. She would often visit, and even though the siblings obviously loved each other it would often turn into a shouting match, leading to some very awkward situations when Stiles and Laura’s visits would match up (usually by accident).

Don’t get any ideas. It had taken awhile for Stiles and Derek to build up to even kissing, and anything past a heavy duty make out session and some light groping? Yeah, apparently completely off limits till god knows when. Stiles had a seven months plan though of slow seduction. _Had_ being the important word, because that was sort of derailed when Derek conceded into moving back to New York with his sister in May.

Not that they weren’t rocking the long distance relationship thing. Phone calls every night, emails several times a day (Derek refused to get a facebook). And the man would even fly into California some weekends, frantic days were they would barely speak because their tongues were busy jammed down each other’s throats. But Derek still refused to come into Beacon Hills, and Stiles didn’t blame him. Too many bad memories. It would just have to take time.

“Maybe I’ll come pick you up,” Derek said hesitantly.

Stiles smiled huge. “That would be awesome! I can introduce you to Scott. Sometimes I think he doesn’t believe you exist. Not that I told him we’re... you know. Dating or whatever. But still, it would be nice that he knew you weren’t my imaginary friend.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along. And I can meet your father too.”

“Perhaps we’ll save the dating discussion until I’m 18 then? He does have a gun. I know you’re a werewolf and all, but I’m sure that would hurt like hell.”

Derek chuckled, and that was definitely one of Stiles’ favorite sounds in the world. “Okay. I’m sure you’ll be seeing me and Laura very soon.”

“I’ll try not to freeze to death until then.”

“Not freezing to death in California during the summer? You’re really honing your skills there.”

He couldn’t wait until Derek came to Beacon Hills. Stiles would make sure everything would be perfect, that nothing would bring back bad memories or scare the man off. And maybe, maybe even soon, Derek would move back to California and they wouldn’t have to do this long distance thing. Stiles would give anything to have that happen. After all, what was a red riding hood without his big bad wolf?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! I'm very glad this fic was finished, and I hope you enjoyed it! I hope you check out some of future fics too ^^ Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to follow my updates on tumblr, I have an account [here](http://ember-to-ash.tumblr.com/) solely for that. This won't be used for anything but my fanfictions if you're worried about spam!


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